Ken McAdams
1998

THE NUMBERED MAN

He sat on the bench
and fed the pigeons
and gave me candy.

He smiled
but his eyes were overcast,
clouded with reflections.
Long curls fell about his cheeks.

I saw the number.
I thought he had a tattoo
like Uncle Jack got in the Navy.
I wanted to ask
but Momma wouldn't let me.

Momma said
it was a bad thing
and painful.
I thought it must've hurt
and wondered
how they had done it.

Once he said "Miriam"
under his breath
and the name sounded heavy.
He looked at me
and my heart beat fast
and I was scared.
His head shook
and he gave me candy.

He lived across the street
from the park.
I watched him from our livingroom window.

Once when Momma was shopping
I went and sat next to him
on the bench.
He gave me corn
and I gave it to the birds.

I looked at the number.
He saw me look, I know he did.
He looked at the number
and looked the other way.
He muttered "Miriam" like before.
I wanted to ask
but couldn't make myself
so I said
"Who is Miriam?"


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