At one time there was a bum on the corner of main and ontario. he had deep old weary eyes a watery sunken smile and whiskers smelling of olde english eight hundred that was. a cracked face and clothes smelling of vermin musk reeked out at me on the pavement as I wandered by his corner. Did I mention that I was speaking of a bum? I remember asking myself many times does he understand his place here? He must have for it was sacred ground the ground that he owned. Once again as I recall we were speaking of a bum. I believe I've told you enough about the bum. Maybe not.