The river is famous to the fish
The loud voice is famous to silence
Which knew it would inherit the earth
Before anybody said so
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
Watching him from the birdhouse
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek
The idea you carry close to your bosom
Is famous to your bosom
The boot is famous to the earth
More famous than the dress shoe
Which is famous only to floors
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
And not at all famous to the one who is pictured
I want to be famous to shuffling men
Who smile while crossing streets
Sticky children in grocery lines
Famous as the one who smiled back
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous
Or a bu*tonhole, not because it did anything spectacular
But because it never forgot what it could do