the dog pile

it's hard to throw things away.
take this
book I've never read,
the one about
the girl and dragon or
some such thing,
or the shades of grey
trilogy
sitting on the shelf
next to dantes
inferno, Hemmingway's
moveable feast.
I could start my own
bonfire,
starting with the da
vinci code,
or any number of sequels
about sharks,
about celebrities
who've already
told their life stories
at the age of 30.
how I came to own
these books and place
them on the shelf is
beyond me. gifts?
perhaps, or a weak moment
while going through
the dog pile at the front
of the book store.