I meet a poet in the park.

April 24, 2026, Washington Square Park, New York City.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon when I came upon Maria Coyle selling custom poems in the park.

When it was my turn, I asked her to write about a woman who thought her wedding vows were to love, honor, and respect each other only to discover that her husband thought the vows were to love, cherish, and obey.

I thought the poem was superb, and asked if I could adopt it as a song and render it with AI. She agreed.

I thanked her for the original copy and told her that I consider her the copyright holder of the words. I also hope that, when she writes poems for others, she makes sure to retain her copyright. She could be a very talented songwriter.

You do not have to run into her in the park to have her write a poem for you.

Listen to all the renderings.
Tell us in the comments which one you like best.

Influencers might be nice guys, but are they leaders?

Back before COVID, I was on my way to meet a friend at a hotel in New York City. I came up from the subway on 57th Street and got disoriented, so I simply announced in a loud voice:

“Can anyone point me toward the such-and-such hotel?” A a passerby replied cheerfully.

“I’m going there myself. I’ll walk you over,” He asked, in a friendly Irish accent. “Are you staying at the hotel?”

“No,” I said, “just meeting a friend in the lobby. And you?”

“I’m getting a lifetime achievement award in the ballroom tonight. Heading to rehearsals.”

“That’s nice,” I said. “Do you feel like you’ve actually achieved anything in your lifetime?”

He laughed.

“I’d like to think so.”

We made pleasant chit-chat as we walked, and parted in the lobby.

That evening, I told the story to my son.

“You know,” I said, “I logged over 25,000 miles hitchhiking in my youth. And wherever I went, there was always someone who knew the lay of the land. You don’t need your smartphone—it just keeps you from seeing the people around you.”

Naturally, he pulled out his smartphone.

“Did he look like this?” he asked as he showed me a photo on his phone.

“That’s him.”

“That’s Bono,” he said. “He’s getting a lifetime achievement award tonight, as we speak. Aren’t you ashamed? You managed to insult Bono.”

I am absolutely not ashamed. He didn’t seem insulted either. And I hope Bono won’t be insulted by what I’m about to say next.

How to Tell if It’s a Disaster or a Cause

I once told my “How I Met Bono” story to a Bulgarian friend who grew up under the Soviets. He laughed and said they had an expression:

“It’s not a disaster until Bono shows up.”

Until then, they just dealt with their own problems.

I laughed too. As a kid, it felt like it wasn’t a cause until a folk singer wrote a song about it. People went to the concerts, got their kumbaya fix, then went home feeling better about themselves.