Sunday, April 16, 2006


Yesterday evening, I played tour guide for friends visiting from out of town, which is always fun. While waiting for them to finish checking in, freshening up, I enjoyed the late afternoon sun, the breeze coming off the river. Before long I noticed a heavy-set, dishevelled woman with a paper cup in her hand approaching me. At first, she was chatty and I thought she might be one of the types of people that's a little bit overly nice but generally pleasant enough. Soon enough, before I even realized it, she was talking about poetry. Which mightily confused me. Did she know me? Was that why she was talking to me? She went on about being a published poet, naming one of the vanity anthologies, and would I like to hear one of her poems for a donation? Aha. I said, no, thanks and walked off, thinking about the ironies of life.

After that, I met up with my company, walked up to the arts district on the Bluff, where the Hunter Museum is, walked across the Walnut Street Bridge just as the day was ending. Warm breeze, sunset, a gorgeous moment. Later, dinner outside. A really nice night.


Happy Easter and Passover, everyone.


cK said...

Haven't you ever seen Joan of Arcadia? That might have been god, Paul. And what did you do? You ignored god's poem. A baby bird probably died because of you.

I'm still really weirded out by the way Howie Mandell has stormed back into pop culture. Makes me ponder French history.

persephone said...

"will rhyme for food" . . . .

Paul said...

Damn it, it probably was God. I'm screwed.

Well, more than I already was.