Tiffany was waiting patiently in the line that formed sometime before the sun went down. Her thick long hair and striking facial features stood out in my mind as I typed poems for others. When it was her turn, we smiled and immediately let down our guard.
This man criticized my new friend for not paying me with money for a poem. I asked, “who are you to judge another person’s investment?” He repeated that line over and over again, as if singing a song. “Who are you?” he demanded in a deep melodic voice, emphasis changing each time. “Who are you?” He scared my friend away, then unkindly demanded I create a poem about my question.