I don't remember why, but I was in Finley's garage one morning.
He was a couple minutes away from joining me, so I was left to occupy my time.
I didn't have a cell phone, so instead I snooped around.
There were a lot of boxes, so I began to pick through ones that weren't closed.
Amongst the discarded items was a carton of pictures and maps.
The map I grabbed was old and brittle, I almost wondered if I should unfold it because it might break.
The map was Ireland, but not an Irish map made in Toledo, it was straight from the island.
I love maps, so I was very content intersecting longitudes with latitude.
I'm not sure if 5 minutes or a hour passed, but Finley's voice brought me back to the moment.......
"That was my mothers map."
For the next 1/2 hour Mike told me interesting stories about his family and Ireland.
But the stories weren't the kind you heard in history class, they were more like pub yarns.
Then at one point I explained my newest poem, and how it was about the Kennedy assisnation.
"There's only a few things a poet isn't allowed to write about....oh, I don't know, like maybe 10 topics. Kennedy's death is one of them."
I remember I was so befuddled by this comment.
I didn't understand the reasoning.
I do today.