Brown Paper Bag

When I went to a coffee shop this morning,
I recognized Billy Collins
(figuratively speaking of course)
He was sitting in the corner thinking to himself,
Writing witty comments about the waitress with
Freckles and light brown hair
While his coffee steams identical dancers
Leaping and twirling

A few blocks later
I recognized Edgar Allan Poe
(Figuratively speaking of course)
Barefoot in a puddle
His worries were on his mind
Lingering from his breath
He didn’t know me in the least
But I knew it was him.
Sorrows drowns in his eyes.
While madness recites haunting nursery rhymes in his ears

Noticed Pablo Neruda on a park bench
(figuratively speaking of course)
He was writing letters
Instructions for lovers how to really
Fall in love
While the apple in the brown bag
Waited patiently to be devoured.