THE STREET POET

After being famished
and looking gaunt
before Christmas Day
Kant, the street poet
whom no one has seen
for weeks appears
in brand new gear
devouring a hot latte
from a blue plate special
of salmon fish cakes
down by the town cafe
on the dance floor
or by the bread and fruit stands
near a store of antiques
always ready on the corner
for a game of checkers
or chess
is given a cheese croissant
by my Spanish- American aunt
as he murders down a Danish
as a town celebrant
this always hand shaking
gallant soul empowering
every Beat poet lover
yet feeling lost
and not addressed
because some
have the opinion
that he is a recluse citizen,
an ex smoker
just a vanilla cake baker
trumpet player
in the town band
or a wild racing car driver,
emotional peace warrior
soap opera actor,
minstrel music maker
burly social critic,
a seasoned baseball star
or a goalie winning
hockey player
and soccer referee,
or a devotional bird admirer
philosopher, photographer
who wears a small cross
and Jewish star
outside his coat
of many colors
often called a dreamer
or a schemer
is almost crucified
that he can ill afford
to hear a span of public opinion
on his Audubon walk
by a lonely Evergreen tree
yet he sings out in every way
a chorus about his Jesus
on his guitar music strings
and will wonderfully cover us
with riffs of jazz
even as he ages
and manages to cleverly give
a shout out by our highway
as he rings in heavenly melodies
recorded from seven languages
searching for a girl friend
to make yearly amends
in the fearfully cold air
at the parking lot
he makes a reasonable Kantian
non sectarian wish
for his own commonweal
at the Church Street
Market Square
in Burlington, Vermont
he always has a reward
for us on this Christmas day.