The scene.7:45 AM, Au Bon Pain, Davis Square, Somerville. The lone figure of Dennis Daly, at a table seemingly praying over a poetry book. This is how Saturday morning breaks for the Bagel Bards. By 10 AM there is a cacophony. 90-something Joe Cohen, on his wheelchair, bites into his cheese danish, drinks his black coffee, and shows us his latest photographs. Krikor arrives, tall and regal, looking for all the world like a refugee from a Russian novel. And Harris Gardner, a shock of white hair, an impresario of verse, an Einstein with a bag of books from Salvation Army bins - offers all of us a share of his pastry. And so it goes with Luke and Zvi and Lawrence and Paul - and all the others. We are regulars. We are kibbitzers-old, middle-aged, rarely young. Stumblebums, friends, writers, poets. We cross our stage-give our soliloquies, our Sermon on the Mount, the stunningly bad jokes, the salient points. Then...we call it a day... and drift away....