A Day In the Life of a Subway Poet: Non-fiction Poetry

I saw him there,
a thin man with
the chivalry of
an age I'd never
seen before in person

He offered poems for sale,
a few dollars at a time
and forty minutes later
I knew he'd been in old
Broadway theater

He dropped names and
dates and history like
a walking encyclopedia
So much depth,
so many people he'd known
Speaking about their
parties and the ways
that writers live

Yet he's here with a
sign that keeps falling over,
dressed in layers and
dirt under his fingernails

And it makes me want
to cry and ask what is
wrong with this world
that a man like this,
so brilliant in character
and memory

Is a subway poet

And when he shows me
the article where he
was published,
his name was there
and so was his work

His name is David Green.
He's a person just like you.
And this is what we do
to our talented and
our gifted:

We force them underground.

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