Loaves and Fishes

This morning I met a rich man
whose flower-decorated bicycle basket
was full of science textbooks.

Molecular Chemistry;
Gray's Anatomy;
Astrophysics.

He was in his sixties.
His teeth, gray hair,
and nails rough and ragged
from long months on the streets.

He inquired,
as any book lover will inquire
of another carrying a volume
as I was:  "What book are you reading?"

I was about to have breakfast
and he had stopped me meters
from the door of the establishment.
For the next half hour
we talked as passersby looked on
with perplexity and amusement,
leaving or entering the restaurant.
We spoke of atoms, cells,
natural and artificial molecular transmutations,
education, the solar system, God, beauty, and love.

We exchanged names
of books to read.
I wrote my recommendations
on a page of Gray.
Then I invited him
to join me for breakfast,
but he looked at the restaurant door
and smiled, saying he'd better
be on his way.

I gave him a little money.
He inquired, as any brave human
will inquire of another carrying a name
as I was: "What's your name?"

"James."

I returned the question.
"Gee-zuz."
I tilted my head
with the half smile of inquiry.
"Hey, Zeus", he offered
as a corrective, but then,
"Jesus" again.

"Whatsover you do..."
ran through my mind.
He smiled with his jaundiced teeth.

I went in for breakfast,
but I knew I had already had
my loaves and fishes.