Found Writing Paris- Shakespeare and Company

I found this poem while reading in the library of a book store called Shakespeare and Company in central Paris. This is a bookstore often frequented by Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Gertrude Stein.

We Live Our Lives
Marcus Reichert

We live our lives as we choose,
here on the street, without pride
or grievance, or longing for much.
We drink our drinks and smoke,
we say only what we must, or
what we will, in our abject euphoria.
The sun shines and the wind blows,
cars pass beyond a distant window,
legs adjust, feet stop and start.
Someone just spoke to me, but
I don't know what he said, only,
conceivably, what he didn't.
His face in profile is the face of
a ruined king, a lachrymose cardinal.
Now when he turns to me, if he does,
I will know him utterly as himself,
without his work, without his wife,
without his children, or his dead father.
His mother is beckoning from the hill,
calling silently for him to make her meal;
these are the things they've grown
in the garden they share with their God.
Their Gos speaks through this man
in mate testimony to all that is unknown
to me and will never be known to me-
here in this bar, in this sweet purgatory
of unnumbered days and evenings.