I think I like Billy Collins.
He has a good name,
That kind of roll off the tongue,
Heard on a July afternoon
At a baseball game,
Or holiday weekend picnic name.
Billy Collins,
He lived just up
The street from my childhood home.
Ready for any adventure-
Street hockey, swimming pools
Biking to the ice cream shop.
Summers spent embracing
All of youth’s freedoms,
And constrictions.
Yes it's a good name,
Billy Collins.
Almost too good.
Perhaps he dressed it up a bit, you know,
To make it presentable for his books.
Maybe his real name is William Collingsworth,
Or some other gagging,
Conglomerate of unattractive letters.
It's easy to hide behind a name.
I have only read a few poems,
But I have always liked the name.
Billy Collins.
A lifelong friend.
The buddy you joked with in middle school,
Played baseball with in high school
And still live a block away from.
That James Stewart type friend,
He'd fight for you in any bar
(Just after getting drunk).
Billy Collins.
It's a good name.