I was there, amidst books
And, books, amidst prices, in the store
And saw her

I was aware of her breathing
Her flitting eyes
Skirting words she had not written
But undoubtedly had interest in.

Behind glasses…poor thing

But passion played across her young face
Like a faint ripple on virgin lakes
And gave way her slight attempt
To hide her enthusiasm.

But I saw it

It struck me

And with every turned page
I felt a turn in me
More and more so
Until I found myself

-struck like an inanimate thing-

staring…at

her

But for seconds she swept her eyes from the print
And met me head-on
And that second shifted my sight…away, away, away
For shame
That I had stared at something more beautiful
More aware
Than I.

I bought a coffee and left. And said nothing to her.

Which I may eternally regret.

But a cigarette consoled me, saying…

“You have seen and passed by, but have not seen the end yet.”

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