He stood on the street with a sign and notebook and a ream of copied pages.
He was mildly rumpled and his collar was turned to the wind. His eyes were crinkled with signs of laughter.
The sign said:
POEMS $1… 2 for $3… or a gentle smile…autographed- add $1
No, I won’t go get a job, I’ve had my fill of your jobs. This is my job now. To tell you of the dandelion that broke the sidewalk and the hawk that flies over graffitied walls is my vocation.
a man stands
a life lived well and badly
another dandelion cracks the cement
This is my street corner. Leave a smile and take a story.
