i needed to escape my thoughts

but didn’t feel like driving

all the way to the library to be

.

surrounded by books

settling instead

on a half price books

i was hoping to find

kafka on the shore

by haruki murakami

.

no such luck

.

instead

gleefully discovering

a hard cover with pristine jacket

of larry brown’s

fay

and a two buck

the smiths

cd

.

i sat in the wing chair

of the architecture section

devouring my unearthed treasures

trying to forget

for a moment

people were elsewhere

in the world

busily

bloody

needlessly

dying

.

i found myself

wishing for a part time job

in the intellectual oasis

as a way to support my book addiction

.

sighing as i realized it could never be

.

i don’t have enough facial piercings

i’m not pale enough

i don’t have an ironically bad manic panicked haircut

i haven’t stretched my ear piercings with grommets

inside which one could wear an antique salt cellar

or piece of driftwood

in each lumbering lobe

i don’t wear my sweaters belted and frayed

or present with a look of general disdain

and loathing of the shoppers or human race

a permanent puss on an acne scarred face

.

they would never

hire me