The Friendly Stranger At Orange Street Poem by Archita Kumar

One day at a New york city shop,
I met a man selling marbles,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some barbels.

"Got any barbels? " asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No barbels here! " said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.

"We've got some lovely cakes,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some steaks."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.

The man seemed exceptionally busy,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call dizzy,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.

Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit friendly.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty spendley.

So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the New york city shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."


"Marbles, barbels, you shall find.
Cakes, steaks, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to Orange Street Market.

So to Orange Street Market I decided to go,
In search of the barbels I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.

There were stalls selling dresses,
Shoes in many shades.
There were even stalls selling compresses
People were scattered from many trades

I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather friendly
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all spendley.

Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some barbels! "
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some cakes and marbles.

"But how did you know? " I asked,
"Do you want them or not? " she did say.
Silently, the barbels she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.

As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?