a local poet

I was editting some work at a blues cafe yesterday afternoon when a tall guy sitting in back my study mate handed me a piece of paper and said, "you can read it later, when you're not busy with your work." Okay, maybe not direct quotation but along those lines. So I gaze at the paper and find it hard to make out the words as it was written in a fancy, swirling font -- you know, like The Nightmare Before Christmas font. And no, I don't mean in italics. Here's what was written:

You are now wrapped in

the infinite and tender embrace

of a fairly delicious and

utterly precious moment

that I am incredibly

fortunate to be able to

share with you

through these carefully immobilized [imortalized?]

ink-smitten word-forming

meaning-conveying letter

0511201546

Sounds crytic? No, not really, except for the font and design. Study mate says, "are those numbers a phone number? I say, "hm, I thought it was a date." Now why did I say that?! Clearly it is not the month of May (duh), and those numbers are far too many. so that's Sunday for you. More cafe-hopping adventures, perhaps.