Maurice is a poet

he tells me

with glazed glassy eyes

traveling the world

carrying his old typewriter (yes, I said, typewriter)

his ratty book of poems

(which he tries to sell me)

and a few salty photographs on cards

(which he tries to sell me)

at the beach of San Francisco

the beach of San Francisco, Mexico

San Pancho— for short

Maurice wears a bowler hat and a

crooked handlebar moustache

in a faded tank top he sports

sunburned tattoos

multilingual and very global

dude has brownies with

a little something in them

(which he tries to sell me)

at the Golden Gate Bridge

the little Golden Gate Bridge over

the creek of San Francisco

the creek of San Francisco, Mexico

San Pancho— for short

Maurice is selling soft

the sun is setting hard

glassy eyes are blinking

I’ll give him a buck here

someone a few pesos over there

to get him back on the bus

or the next boat

out of here

out of San Francisco

out of San Francisco, Mexico

San Pancho— for short