The Sidewalk Poet

Read Lane Degregory’s story: Find him if you can. Stake out the sidewalks. The poet is as elusive as his verses.

He signs his work in script: Jacob Christiano. A lyrical name.

It’s fake. Another one of his creations. Jacob Christiano doesn’t exist in any state database. No driver’s license, birth certificate or court records bear that name.

So you ask around town. Has anyone seen him? What does he look like? When does he work?

“I’d guess he’s in his late 20s, early 30s,” says Mark Lecato, who owns Schakolad chocolate shop at Central Avenue and Fourth Street. “He always rides his bike and carries a backpack. He’s kind of quirky.”

The poet has left three poems outside Lecato’s shop. Sometimes he comes in to ask for a cup of water. “He sells copies of his poems too. A page for a dollar,” Lecato said. Someone at the shop bought a sheet of hot pink paper with four poems printed on it; two e-mail addresses were hand-scribbled between the tiny type.

But when you try to send a message, it comes back “undeliverable.” So you pass around your card, beg people to call if they run into the poet.

Weeks later, outside a deli, another poem appears:

Remember that night

We meandered

Down to the beach

& huddled together …