The Ghost of Charlie Chaplin

I sit on a stoop on 135th street when what to my surprise,
I see hang a corner neath a street light,
come from Convent Avenue in the direction of the City College Campus,
no other than the one and only Charlie Chaplin.
I exclaim, "Sir"! He blushes, perhaps, embarrassed by the "sir,"
he being a person proud of his humble origins..

The neighborhood is deserted of auto and pedestrian traffic,
just me on the stoop and the little tramp leaning on the street light.
"Sir," I continue, " I have seen great movies - films I really, really liked,
but none like yours in them taking me back to innocence."
Again, Mr. Chaplin blushes before he marches off in his funny walk
of bowl-legged landless, English gentry rocking the deck of a make-believe Pinafore.

One more time Charlie Chaplin's ghost blushes,
twitching his signature toothbrush mustache,
and this last time just for me, fluttering his eyelashes
as only my bestest little tramp can do.
This I dreamed, this I lived
in the far out Constellation of Hue.