bookstore

browsing in a well-stocked bookstore is, without doubt, one of life’s great pleasures
i could spend days in the regulator, or black oak books
weeks
at the same time though, one can’t help but feel a wistful sadness while perusing the ceiling-high shelves
because:
among the thousands and thousands of volumes of display
most of them i will never read
almost all of them i will never own
missing out on good stuff (superlative stuff!) is inevitable
it’s kind of like that old game show, supermarket sweep
except that life is the supermarket
the produce are the books
and god is dale winton, holding you back as you bob excitedly at the start line
and when he says you can go, you burst into activity, dashing, swerving, careering through the aisles
and it’s all free, and you can take whatever you want
once it’s in your cart, it’s yours!
until the whistle blows anyway
mania! grabbing! elbows!
and meanwhile, dale is there on the sidelines, smiling and smiling as your time runs down
don’t miss out on the turkeys, he’ll say
or: j_____ just dashed right past the bonus item…and didn’t pick it up!
and, just as you’re getting warmed up, the buzzer goes, and you have to limp back to the checkout counter
no turkeys
no ben and jerry’s chunky monkey ice cream (now dioxin-free!)
and all the stuff you bloody regret picking up.