What I Saw
The newspaper seller gets olderevery year, cheeks more grizzled
step less spry as he
dashes into traffic
dispensing papers,
giving change
to anxious drivers
and if you see him
at a slow time
he justs sits
gazing to a middle distance
all unknown to me
long stare looking back
perhaps, at all the years
behind him. papers sold and
secrets told like to a hairdresser
unthinking information passing
with a familiar face and smile.
Saw him today, while I was
driving. He looked up and then away
he knows my car, knows I don't buy
the paper, not from him.
He looked so tired, this Sunday
worker who is always there
a signpost in so many lives
that one day will be gone,
years behind us all have
eaten up our lives, bites taken
daily from our immortality
bringing us our future.
Comments (3)
sounds like the beginnings of a novel
Can be turned to ash in under 15 seconds by
A single match. Only then is it useful in a composting venture. They want $2 per copy at the store for their 19 pages of carnival hokum.
It's engaging.