The Poet In the Subway
Seated in the station
At a table he had brought,
A poet (as his sign announced)
Typed poems that he had wrought.
His hands were ready at the keys
To tap out a request;
Just choose a topic and you’d hear it
In his words expressed.
He offered me his email list;
I added my address.
Without disclosing what I do,
I wished him much success.
I had no need for what he’d write
And so I headed home,
Delighted that he’d given me
A subject for my poem.
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