'Poetry, you were talking about.' Julie smiles, touching Faye's cheek.
Faye lights a cigarette in the wind. 'I've just never liked it. It beats around bushes. Even when I like it, it's nothing more than a really oblique way of saying the obvious, it seems like.'
Julie grins. Her front teeth have a gap. 'Olé,' she says. 'But consider how very, very few of us have the equipment to deal with the obvious.'
Faye laughs. She wets a finger and makes a scoreboard mark in the air. They both laugh. An anomalous wave breaks big in the surf. Faye's finger tastes like smoke and salt.
-David Foster Wallace
"Little Expressionless Animals"