seeing the light

I remember coming home
from work
one afternoon
and seeing the boxes stacked
in the living room
full of books.
my books. the books i'd be
buying since I was
a teenager.
hundreds of books.
Chekov and Hemmingway,
Plath and Bukowski.
Frost and Salinger.
what's going on I asked my
new wife.
i'm giving them away, these books,
they're old and dusty, plus
you've already read
them. they're taking up
room on the shelves.
maybe other people would like
to read them.
I need space for my knick
knacks and tea cups.
at that moment
a small light went on in my
head.
a light that would become
painfully
brighter and brighter.