The first order of business is to grab some dinner, though amazingly (well, not so amazingly) I am still full from that Smothered Pork Chop of yesterday. Nonetheless, I have no problem polishing off an order of crab cakes.
Sitting next to me is a table full of women poets and poetry editors, which I say with certainty because I am an expert eaves-dropper. Initially, the group seems rather demure. One woman is an "inspirational poet", another discusses writing poetry for military wives. After the first round of cocktails, the conversation loosens up: one of the group confesses, then all agree, that anytime they are in a bookstore they look for copies of their books and re-arrange them so that they face outward. Some women re-catalogue the books in different sections of the store that seem more appropriate, or in multiple sections. Interestingly, they all agree that, when reading poetry, the one word that will instantly turn them off is "loins". This comment provokes hoots of laughter from several of the women, one of whom adds that even worse is when loins is combined with love, as in "the love of my loins". At this point the entire table erupts in uncontrolled hilarity.
Other topics of immediate dismissal are Patriotism (too hard to get right) and Dogs (too much Marley out there already).
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