Poet Bling
One time, Bernadette, Phil, and I were going to an art event in Saratoga Springs. The two of them, of course, are poets and looked like it. I look like something else and was feeling self-conscious. “You need some poet bling,” Bernadette said. “Here,” she said, “take this.” A shell on a red string. I wore it to the event. Nobody that day mistook me for a poet, but they did say “Nice bling.”
