Bookstore Poem #287. The only book on the shelf

It’s been almost a couple of weeks since I posted one of these, so…

Sometimes the only book you find on the shelf
is the exact one you were looking for

I’ll take it as read that that’s a good thing

In my tastes I lean towards the philosophical
that particular dimension of the story
whether it’s an idea or a feeling
can make a book worth holding on to
long after it has ceased to be useful

For me, it’s about finding my experience of being
reflected somewhere outside of my own thoughts
I may doubt whether someone else’s experience of a feeling
is anywhere close to my own
but the understanding and the conclusion
are what resonate

Strangely, I don’t question how
these slips of understanding
come to be part of the character or the narrative arch

I gravitate to them
as though reeled in by an invisible line
cast from another time
the book waiting, patiently, for me to bite

Then, to abandon this metaphor for something else
I am forever attached
strapping in for the long haul
binding myself to this book for eternity
maybe someday forgetting the words that drew me in
but forever living with the feeling a part of me

Sometimes the exact book you’re looking for
is the only one on the shelf

(28 May 2018)