I made it to three bookstores, heard some excellent cover bands, some questionable poetry slams—none of which used the word ‘Nantucket’ so I’m not sure if it counts as real poetry (Mountjoy need not feel threatened that his uncanny Haiku skills are in contention here!), and witnessed a lot of face-painted pygmy savages running amok in the aisles while their parents slyly denied any relationship with these fiends in human form.
(Overhead one set of parents talking about getting the ol’ tubes tied. Both of parents, in fact, just to make sure the odds remained in their favor.)
And I bought a book, too.