The Memory Project
Off the top of my head, natural (Johnny Ketchum)

TFPP (The Found Poetry Project)
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In my handwriting on a scrap of paper found on the floor today:

"A sole-shaped knish sold outside the train station."

There's also a phone number, NOT in my handwriting. I haven't a clue. Looks like someone's food memory, a la Nora Ephron's recent ode to Hungarian whatever on the op-ed pages of the New York Times, but "sole-shaped knish" didn't come up on Google. I am a sucker for a good food tip. (Go back and read Ed Levine's piece on chicken soup for the Times, assuming it's still on line.)

"A sole-shaped knish" is not "Shaved meats, piled high," my all-time favorite menu entry, but it's still pretty evocative. Although I suppose a "soul-shaped knish" would be more evocative still.

Meanwhile, on a vacant storefront in South Baltimore, home recently to Bruno's, a sub and wing joint: "BUISNESS OPPERTUNITY." Teaching spelling, I suppose.

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