Picture this: I was at the counter of Nona's Kitchen in Pacifica, minding my own business and reading a book. As I was paying my bill, the bearded little old man who'd been sitting next to me the whole time spoke up out of the blue and asked if I'd ever read any Bukowski. I allowed as to how I had, he showed me the poem he'd been reading and we wound up talking Bukowski for about five minutes.

Later that day, I was putting some new books into my bookshelves which at one point necessitated removing the end book from one shelf to make room for one of the additions. The choice was either split the HST collection onto two shelves or to pick the singleton book from the other end. I made the obvious choice and pulled down the singleton, which happened to be the only Bukowski book I own.

When I opened it, I found two thousand dollars. You can imagine my surprise.

I bought the book while traveling some years ago so I must have stashed the cash in it so it wasn't all on me...I just wish I could remember which trip....I then I FORGOT about it.

So yeah, put THAT into your synchronicity pipe and smoke it.