Tim:
(holding a lukewarm cup of coffee while looking the light shining through the air) Whitman was more than a poet – he was a cultural icon. Along with Longfellow, Emily Dickinson, and Helen Jackson, he altered the American literary landscape. Many American 20th century poets are, in a sense, his grandchildren.
Ted:
(casting a skeptical glance at Tim while chewing some gum) For some, perhaps. I think he's overrated. However, he was one of the icons from that era. In a sense, he represented the very core of the American experiment, raw and singing.
Kris:
(smiling faintly, looking at her fingernails then glancing at Ted) Yeah, he was the Allen Ginsberg of the 19th Century.
Terri:
(tilting her head thoughtfully) You could say that. Or perhaps Ginsberg was the Whitman of a century later? In many ways, they both sing the same wild, expansive hymn of life. Poets create their own tunes and not so different from musicians.
Tim:
(shrugging his shoulders, checking his cellphone while trying to feign politeness) Whatever. . . Rhetoric has no end, but human life is short.
Sam:
(waving a final farewell with a theatrical air) And so, my friends, is this conversation.