Tonight's Poet Corner: Ghirardelli Guy

Ghirardelli Guy
by Belinda Roddie

Have you heard of the Ghirardelli Guy?
He passes out hot chocolates after five,
when the summer turns to dead winter at night;
he'll add whipped cream if you're extra polite.

The Ghirardelli Guy is eight feet tall,
though his eyes and ears are very small.
He's dark and thin like an electric wire,
smiling with teeth as worn as a tire.

He used to run a booth beside the bay,
not far from where tourists bought their sundaes,
all scooped and served with Ghirardelli treats,
a city staple that could not be beat.

The owner of the Ghirardelli shop
was not fond of the odd and lanky fop
selling hot chocolates melted from its brand,
so she asked him to move his cocoa stand.

So now he walks up and down Market Street,
handing the homeless cups of confection sweet.
The drinks are well-received, with twinkling eye.
So skips along the Ghirardelli Guy.