I see you there, in the bookstore,
lining the shelves.
Hardcover beauties, paperback spines.
I say “yes”
my wallet says “no”
“you don’t have any money” it says
“you’re broke” it says
I sob endlessly, and resolve to just staying and watching
drooling over cover art
until, finally, I am dragged out the door, crying
“I’ll be back again someday”