I’ve been writing poems for years. Hundreds and hundreds of them. A small percentage get into print. And most of those, when I reread them after a year or two, are disappointing.

This one was not. I like it as much now as when I wrote it.

But it is, as I say, a found poem. It was written the day after I heard the conversation. It was winter. I bought a cigar at OK Cigars in NYC. I asked if they had a smoking room. They did. It was in the basement. I expected a nicely furnished room with plush leather couches and the like – which is typical of cigar store smoking lounges. But this was just an old, overstuffed chair in an unfinished basement. The conversation that I observed was between two employees that were opening crates at the time.


 Found Poem: In the Basement of OK Cigars

Have you ever made your own envelopes? It’s a hobby of mine. It’s just a thing, kind of strange…

I thought of doing that, but I was afraid the postman might object. Like not sending it, or holding it up for some stupid technical reason. Is there a legal standard for envelopes?

I don’t know, man.

I don’t even know if there should be.

I’m really skeptical of stamps these days – that they will stay on. Like especially ever since they came up with self-sticking stamps.

For sure. You see the edges curling up and you wonder… They might not make it through the scanners!

That wouldn’t be cool.

I think about putting tape on it but I wonder if the dudes at the post office would have a problem with that. I just want it to go where it’s going.

My dad has a massive stamp collection. As a kid I had to soak envelopes to get them off. That’s all I did for years. The sink would get clogged up with glue. The slugs would eat the stuff.

I had to pick dandelions in the yard with one of those two-pronged pickers because my parents were hippies and wouldn’t use weed spray.

But it’s work, man, and work is good. It’s better than doing dishes, I guess.

I can’t watch people doing dishes. It drives me crazy when they don’t rinse them right.

Yeah, that’s bad. That’s really bad. I am so obsessed with rinsing.

Me too. Do you use the rack or dry them with a towel?

I use the rack, man. Why would I go to all that trouble of rinsing them and then wipe them with a crappy towel?

Yeah, it’s like having a washcloth in the shower. I haven’t seen one of those in ages.

So old school.

It’s not right, man. It’s just not right.


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fugacious (adjective) 

Something that’s fugacious (fyoo-GAY-shus) is fleeting; transitory. As used by Hannah More: “Honours and dignities are transient, beauty and riches frail and fugacious.”

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The latest issue of Independent Healing

What medical care is safe during the pandemic? In this issue, you’ll learn about the 8 kinds of medical appointments you may be able to skip until the coronavirus threat passes… and 4 types of care you should never delay.


* The one type of medical facility most likely to spread COVID-19

* 7 questions about coronavirus safety you should ask before going to an appointment

* The surprising coronavirus-Alzheimer’s connection

* If you have achy knees, you should never let your doctor give you this common treatment

* Contrary to what doctors have been saying for decades, eggs actually improve heart health

And much more…

Click here to read the July issue.

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An email from FJ:

Just wanted to thank you for your book Ready, Fire, Aim. I am only midway through but I’ve already picked up more useful things than I have during my MBA and business degree combined. I am an aspiring entrepreneur who is currently working in the tech industry and have been itching to go on my own to pursue some business ideas. Your book inspires me to really make that move. Thanks for the guidance!

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