Not A Hoot
They had turkey wing fans and they felt kind of elegant

Nothing to do but just sit there

I wanted them to walk by him the way

They would pass by a person asking for money in an alley

They not only wrote like him

They also walked with his rolling slouch

Drank likehis heroes and heroines,

Cultivated a hard-boiled melancholy

And he writes slowly in longhand

Possibly forty lines a day (rhymes)