Fast Food Graffiti Poem by Robert Rorabeck

People who don’t write well
Will be forgotten:
Good, bad, or indifferent
It doesn’t matter.
Your name might be
Mentioned in
Dante’s Divine Comedy
Going down or
Coming up,
All this virtue
Condensed in the few lines,
Reflected upon by Virgil,
But who reads it anymore:
You might have the
Highest office
In all the world,
But I don’t know you;
Look at the stick of a bird,
No wider than a finger
In the middle of my hand;
It is singing your name,
And me?
The least of all
The scribbled egos
In a Super Walmart’s bathroom,
Trying to get laid;
I am not even done
And already no one
Can remember
Who I am.