the bookstore

you peruse
the stacks of books
on the tables
near the front
of the bookstore
with sale stickers
freshly pressed
onto the covers.
fifty things or
places, or food
you need to visit
or eat before you
pass away into
eternity. a new
Lincoln biography,
another shade
of grey. a shelf
just for kennedy
and Oswald.
eat this and live
longer, one book
says, with a bright
red photo of
a radish on
the front. drink
this and be smarter
another says,
a glass of water
gleaming in
a bright light
over someone's
hand. slowly you
wind your way
through the aisles,
past the magazines
and hats, and kindles,
and movies
to finally find
the slender shelf
of poetry hidden
deep within
us all.