You know you’re a book collector
When you can’t go past that shop
It’s in the way your body stops.
You turn to your friends
(if you’re single, you’re already in it)
And say “Do you mind? – If we just?”
The reply, if we’re honest, doesn’t matter
Because you’re already inside
And you’ve never felt so alive
In that moment where you enter
(the first few steps, it’s true)
You savour the entire atmosphere
And know it’s just for you
The children in that corner pinpoint where you need to go
And you sidle along the shelves, not too quick and not too slow
You don’t want to appear eager
But there’s a balance you must achieve
Between looking normal, looking sane
And, in the pursuit of your ultimate goal, making sure you don’t inflict pain
On the unwary customers who don’t move
(There’s always quite a few and they never get out of the way)
You’re here on business, no time to mess about
No floral Maeve Binchy or a shiny Zane Grey
You’ve seen it there, the dustjacket’s calling
You step over a child that’s bawling
(It’s not your child, it’s all okay)
And that book that’s been waiting for you all its life, is now yours
Your money slides out of your wallet
(You’re usually quite thrifty)
And before you know it you’ve paid, and you’re back outside
With your purchase that’s oh so pretty
Your friends they turn back to you
With expressions from awe to shock
You shrug, “What?”
One points, stunned, at their watch.
You smile, suddenly smug, “I’m a professional”
“And it takes me five minutes – tops.”
Fabulous! And frighteningly familiar…
Thank you! 🙂