Used Bookstore-Poem 

I walk into my favorite bookstore,

It’s slightly dark inside;

I take a big breath and inhale.

The scent of used books,

It takes me back to my

university days–

inside the hollowed halls

of the humanities department,

the graduate philosophy club

on the second floor

always smelled like

old books and

countless arguments.


I’m searching for a book

that will tickle my fancy,

one that will be hard to put down.

I want to be seduced by the Intro, the cover art–

I want to learn something new.

Will it be philosophy, poetics, or history?

At this point I don’t really care. I’m just grateful to be

here, browsing, picking up books by the half-dozen

and sitting down to read.


I weigh each one in my hand,

I read the prologue, a couple of pages into the book,

I want to be mentally teased.

I finally make up my mind after

a couple of hours of contemplating my thoughts.

I speak to my new book, “I’ve selected you out of

all your peers, I found you worthy to be read. Teach me

something new, help me to understand the world I live in,

if you dare, and I love you for it I swear.”


I pay the cashier, she hands me a bookmark

I say thank you and I walk out.

I head to a local coffee shop,

I have to spend some important time with my worded gift.


coffee and a new used book—

this is what life’s all about.