As I got out of my Lyft, in front of the house, one of my neighbors, who I had not noticed was home during my Time Between Parks today, took a long drag off her joint and said "Where is your friend?"
"Which one?" I asked, assuming she meant one of the poets.
"The fine looking one you defiled that pool with this afternoon."
It was far too dark for her to see me blush. "Back in his hotel, probably."
"Mmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmm. You got to tell me your secret. If that boy kissed me like that in this pool, Roger would be taking my kids to visit my fake grave, because this family would never see me again."
Someone, presumably Roger, yells from the pool. "Who you talking to, woman?"
"The Luckiest Man In The World." She yelled back.
"Must be single." He replied.