The Last Time I Saw Adam

The last time I saw Adam, years ago today, was in Hyde Park; at least I think it was him coming slowly toward me down one of the long diagonals, pushing a shopping trolley full of junk. His head was down, his hair was completely grey, and he seemed many years older. I paused. He did not look up. I passed on, not wanting to disturb him on the long shamble graveward. I have since heard it said that once those men and women of the street begin to carry things, it is rare for them to speak to anyone much any more.