was never like in the movies
glasses off
quick flick of the hair
& beauty unfolds
I guess she thought I was
some pretentious prick
snot nosed small town kid
taking out six books a day
not knowing I was reading
to escape the hell of home
needing refuge
from vicious peasants
who felt hate as the only passion
she’d arch her eyes each day
as I’d bring ‘em back
you?
reading Hunter Thompson?
& social science?
in my bored way
I’d say:
pick a book, pick any page
& she’d thumb through
page thirty:
‘take a good rest, small bird’
& I’d say Hemingway
The Old man & the sea
she’d snort
not quite knowing what was happening
flare those ancient nostrils
stamp the books back in stock
& I’d go find some more escape
for today
