Ithaca Garbage

A much revered professor told me 31 years ago that I should walk up to A. R. Ammons to introduce myself, but of course who has the courage?
Even if he was sitting there every Tuesday and Thursday chatting in the Temple of Zeus, I could not just walk up to him to say, “Doyle sent me.”
So the best I can do 31 years later is re-read his long poem, which seemed so dully anti-heroic and full of embarrassing details about breakfast.
It all makes much more sense now but it’s too late to tell them that I really would like to chat about things. 
All I can do is sit here like the old fool hoping that some young one will maybe have the courage I lacked to say hello to the shadow of a shadow sipping coffee.