A VERSE OR TWO

‘You got the time?’ he said pointing at his wrist as I walked past on my way back to the flat carrying a regular chips from Rita’s.
‘Er,’ I said, ‘eightish, I think,’ and made to walk off then stopped and said, ‘hang on,’ took out my mobile phone then said, ‘it’s a quarter to nine.’
‘I thought it was about nine’ he said.
Softly spoken, wore a beard, he didn’t look me in the eye when he said, ‘I’ve been busking my poetry all day and earned twenty-one pence, can you help me?’
‘You’ve earned a bit more,’ I said giving him all the change I had.
Along Dove Street South thinking, ‘Was he humiliated by my not asking for a poem before giving the money or would it’ve been worse if I had asked for a verse or two?’