The poet next door

The whole of literature, its past and present, can be read as a form of authorial self justification in which the less attractive parts of the author's personality are almost always ascribed to at least one, if not two or three, of the characters the author portrays. 

Poetry, if is it poetry, is exempt from this literary history, having obliterated authorial responsibility in favor of standing alone outside in the rain to be struck by lightning once or twice, as the poet said of a poet.

Poets I've known either hold themselves superior or champion themselves as underdogs, in each case offering new solutions to problems they know will never be solved.

My next door neighbor is a poet. He's 12 years old and is clearly a superior being, brave enough to ring my doorbell and ask me to coach him in certain basketball moves, as well as the attitude necessary to becoming a better basketball player. I only know he's a poet because his mother told me, giving me a book of poems he's written and published. I told her, "it's the real thing," meaning his poems, but that as far as basketball is concerned he "needs to play harder and call for the ball when he's in the post" for he's tall for his age and his real coach has him playing the 5 position with his back to the basket, but without instructing him to call for the ball.

When I say these things to him I look him in the eye and see myself.