Poem Store

I bought this poem from a kind boy on the Haight Street Fair sidewalk today for four well-spent dollars:


its blue but not sad
rather japanese named
after the battery and
assult charges the
ribbon doesnt ever
end but it does get
twisted and is soon
about to break
the bank of making
a living with antiquity


I don't know his name *(I do now, he is Zach Houston), just cloudsoftoday@yahoo.com which he wrote by hand at the bottom of the white label on which my poem was so quickly created. If I did know his name, I would become his fan and follow him, purchasing poems periodically. I tried and wanted so badly to take a picture of him and his little "shop," but my camera wasn't working properly. He had a small typewriter and a stool and on the case for his typewriter he had a sign: "the Poem Store." He was just setting up as I walked by, and said he would make a poem for me about whatever I wanted, I set the topic and the price. Being that I am in love with Courier and having such an affinity for typewriters, I asked for a poem about his typewriter. Minutes later I had this precious little paper filled with charming words in my sweet Courier by a boy with a beard and a typewriter.

I think it is my favorite purchase in a very long time; it makes me delightfully happy, and helps to alleviate the pain of my irresponsible sunburn. Thank you Sir.