Friday, June 15, 2007


As close to found poetry as I've come in awhile, the overheard conversation from the "old farts table" at Lafeen's Donut Shop.

"I like long wood."
"I like long wood too.
"Twelve inches is too damn short."
"I like it about fourteen."

(I could go on. OK)

"The wife likes it straight in but I like to twist it."

(They were talking about firewood. Maybe.)

Lafeen's, a great little slice of Americana that will one day be mysteriously trasnported into the depths of the Smithsonian.

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