CafeA Poem by Scribbler
There was a man with a fedora
he was reading literature outside the cafe I didn't know whether to ask him kindly for a cigarette or to ask him to keep his raspy voice down My mother was the same way either she'd ask for something or she'd hate you for something and I'd be damned if I were her So I stood next to him and took his hat and cig and ran and I haven't asked for anything since © 2014 ScribblerAuthor's Note
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