Met a coffee shop poet yesterday. I sat outside the Fehrenbacher Hof, ready to sip my redeye. Willy sat by the door with his dog. “Do you mind if I smoke? I said.

“Sure. I forgot my smokes at the house,” Willy said.

I offered him a Camel. Willy smiled.

“A Camel!” he said.

“Yeah,” I said.

I offered him a light.

He goes on to tell me of the banter he had with the barista and fellow shop patrons. You know, coffee shop rhyming, just the way to start the day.

He took a puff and told me the tale, starting with Derek the Barbaric, Silly Willy and of course, Pamela. Now I knew why he was so excited about that Camel. He had a rhyme.

“I’d walk a mile for a Camela. But I’d rather smoke Pamela!” Willy said.

Now he had my attention. Forget The New York Times. Time to rhyme.

On to Fenrenbacher Hof. That one took a while. “We sat outside the Fehrenbacher Hof…”

Willy got a refill and kept rhyming.

Bud Clark. “There once was a mayor named Clark.”

Hiking and light rail: “Following the trail, my soles crushing shale.”

And so on….

We laughed as we traded simple rhymes, drinking coffee, soaking up the November sunshine.

Thank goodness for the indie shops of Portland like the Feherenbacher Hof, where you can always find a coffee shop poet and learn new ways to view this great town.

Coffee shop poets. Do you know one?

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