San Francisco - the newspaper stand on the footpath


In a round room sits a man
surrounded by daily newspapers.
He doesn't smile
and I think Christmas
cannot be carried
on his shoulders.

I ask if he would mind
my taking his picture
and he grunts 'No,
too many have taken it.'

So I smile, and thank him.
But I have taken
the memory of his carved face,
a frown with weariness in eyes
that have read enough,

a body bent to fit
the tiny round room
lined with its new thousand words
each day.