Will: (about Karen) Listen, officer, I realize she was going a little over the speed limit..And that's a ticket you're writing.
Vince: Well, it isn't a poem about springtime in Cincinnati.
Will: Why Cincinnati?
Vince: First town I thought of. Actually, the second. But nobody would write a poem about Newark. Nothing rhymes with it.
Will: What rhymes with Cincinnati?
Vince: Just take the ticket.