No. 4 - Overheard

At Il Postale in Sunnyvale last night, I was seated with my brother and a couple of friends in an exterior courtyard, the chill kept down by portable heaters. The conversation at the next table over included something like the following, spoken at high and increasing volume by elderly people who seemed like npr conributors:

"We had tickets, but I think we're going to trade them in."

"Who else was speaking."

"Maya Angelou."

"Who?"

"MAYA ANGELOU."

"Who?"

"MAYA ANGELOU! SHE'S A POET."

"Oh. Yes. She's very good.