This really happened: soft fuzzy beret man “hey, do you have a cigarette I can have?” me “Yeah, sure, do you want to roll it yourself or” soft “yes.” (he does, crouching by my table) then he takes miniscule care to put back the pouch just so-- me (finally) “It’s okay, dude. Just wherever is fine.” soft “okay. I’m just an artist.” (this makes me look up and smile) soft “what are you working on?” me (lamely) “Oh, just words.” soft “beautiful. I hope they come to you.” me “thank you!” soft “i’m doing a little research, myself.” me (too mumbly) “good luck with that.” soft “what’s that?” me (once more, with feeling) “Good luck with that.” soft “Thank you.” (a moment lingering. it feels good in the way that only the slightly uncomfortable can.) (2003)