Great Regulars: The afternoons Mike appeared on his bicycle

with a basket of new records at the foot of the South Central Avenue hill were rare and special, and rumors swirled about his circumstances, most of the stories at once confident and implausible. Was he a Korean War Vet, way older than he looked? A junkie? Retarded? Schizophrenic? A genius until some goons pounded his head with a pipe in a schoolyard fight?

from The Washington Post: Poet's Choice: 'Mike the Winger' by Robert Polito

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