Undrafted

  Boys, I gotta tell you about this guy I met today. Some hipster hobo in his fifties, walking along the street past my work while I'm out front having an afternoon cigarette. "Have you got a pen?" he asks, waving a scrap of paper in his hand. "You wouldn't believe it, I've found two pens today, a red one and a blue one, but I went home to change my jacket, and I've left them there." Well, maybe I do have a pen, I tell him, just hold on a minute. So I rifle through my pockets, but come up emptyhanded. Meanwhile, we've been talking at total ease with each other. He shows me some ornamental pine cutting he's found and had tucked away in the wallet pocket of his jacket. “When the words come, you've got to write them down,” he says. I know what you mean, I say.  Then he's talking about holidaying in Blackpool and writing poems to gift to strangers as thanks for the good time he had there. Tells me he's a retired gentleman's tailor...