A Day at Barnes and Noble

I started reading 'The Best American Poetry for 2014’,

I never knew that ‘lifestyle’ was an art form, but

apparently it is, or at least a requirement

to be one of the ‘best’;

they play ‘Hark The Herald’ over the loudspeaker

as we sit reading our books, drinking our drinks,

green tea for me, mocha frappuccino for her;

“they’re using Jesus to put people in the

shopping mood” I tell her,

“selling Christmas before Thanksgiving;”

they play flamenco music;

“what does that have to do with Christmas?” she asks,

“it’s all part of setting the mood” I tell her;

“part of the artistic, cynical, sarcastic, bourgeois,

intellectual, bullshit mood;”

she laughs;

“I’m giving you rare insight” I say, “I’m letting

you see how my mind really works, I don’t

let many people see that;”

“why am I the lucky one?” she replies dryly;

now it’s my turn to laugh;

I begin writing thoughts down in the

back of the book,

“better take good care of this” I say,

“someday, after I am gone this will be worth

big bucks;”

she remains quiet, browsing her book;

“imagine finding a hand-written Bukowski

in the back of a book, besides,

they’re not coming like they used too,

this could be the last one

I ever write;”

“you can call it ‘A Day at Barnes & Noble’,” she says;

“good idea,” I say as I quickly scribble it down, “thanks;”

“Merry Christmas,” she replies.

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