on the shelf know who
they lean
against?
Darwin
and Billy Graham.
Freud
and Didion.
Bukowski.
Plath and Salinger.
Chekov
and Mickey Spillane.
do they have a clue
as to who
they share the room
or floor with?
do they talk
into the night, all these
poets
and writers,
self-help gurus,
psychologists and chefs?
what lively
conservations they must
have when the lights
go out,
and i stumble off to bed.
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