I want to believe there's something more to the world.
I want it so intensely, I'm not even ready to admit that there isn't.
It's a naive hope for an escape from a reality
Where women are raped and children die of hunger.
I'm not desperate but I like to seek out places that seem plausible for adventures
Where I can always at least pick up a book and it's an instant adventure.
This one was really nice,
Although the shelves were labelled incorrectly
And I went to the second-floor balcony because the label said "second hand books"
And I was searching for a cheap one.
I wanted to see what the balcony looked like anyway.
It was beautiful, with a narrow staircase and carved handrail
And stained glass windows.
Feeling guilty for not intending to buy the book I picked up and started reading in a corner
My mind wandering maybe I should ask permission maybe I should just buy the book
But all the while enjoying the surroundings
Romantically fantasising about all the years this bookstore had existed
And all the books it had kept
All the stories read
All the people who had come there
Read there, enjoyed the silence
Interrupted by a tapping sound
Maybe they had had romances.
I wonder what the weather must have been like.
I bet one of those shelves has a hidden passageway behind it.
Smiling to myself, definitely intending to come again to the store
And enjoy reading in silence and fantasise about its magic
What is that tapping sound?
Looking up I meet your stare
I was too naive to believe the first time I noticed
And in my innocence gave you all you needed to fantasise all over the back of a book
Hastily leaving the bookstore back into reality
Wondering if you'll at least buy the book.