Talk:Close Encounters/@comment-68.200.112.145-20130829124033

Ezra's poem:

B-26 It’s a number. It’s a song. It’s a girl. Smooth. Pearl joy packed. Gold falafel, As through ice. It’s four-thirty. Morning with '''Phone calls. It’s deaf mute. It’s cheap. ''' A foreign car. Maybe bingo. Lucky night? <span style="color:rgb(42,42,42);font-family:Arial;font-size:12px;font-style:italic;line-height:16px;">Something says <span style="color:rgb(42,42,42);font-family:Arial;font-size:12px;font-style:italic;line-height:16px;">It smells bad.

He knew she checked her phone, which was a cheap phone, before he met her at Hollis.