Meet me on Wednesday

There’s a little used book shop down town that is very easy to find, for the smell of aging pages fills the air in the neighborhood like fresh brewed coffee rising to great the rain. It sits tucked away at the end of a row of brown stones off Gold Street. It is small and dusty and crowded with books and dreams and poems that might never be read. The shelves are huddled close together as tight as they can be, allowing only the minimal amount of space for a wayward adventurer to walk between them swaying your body this way and that way with a quick turn here and skip right there and you must remember to look up and stay conscious of falling works by forgotten masters of the art of blah, blah, blah... This place has got more traps than an Aztec Temple... but what you will find... dreams you never though you would ever get to see... words you thought you would never speak again... are here waiting for you... I’ll be waiting for you...


Meet me on Wednesday in the after noon but don’t let anyone know where you are going, in fact, don’t let anyone know you have left... sneak out like a thief with a purse full of precious stones meant to pay the ransom of some captured prince who doesn't deserves to sit on his fathers throne, but take those jewels and hand them out to the poor and the hungry and those longing to be loved wandering the city streets with no memory of a joyful past and no direction toward a hopeful future... throw those cursed jewels into the sky and let the beggars reach for the heavens to find them... but... don’t let anyone know you have left and where you are going and don’t take the shortest rout, go through alleyways and byways... enter this shop and that one making your way to their back entrance and leave through there, zig zag the city in dark glasses and hide the color of your hair under a scarf... to keep any would be pursuers confused... but wait! Before I forget, get us a box of chocolates or a bag of pastries from you know where...

When you get there leave your glasses on - I don’t want to see the memory of another trapped in the green of your eyes like some poor beast caged in emeralds... save that sweet torture for me. If you can make your way past the desk that sits in front of the window in the small entrance turned into the sports and hobby section you will enter into the main room of the store... turn left to avoid all the boxes on the floor piled high in front of the windows and then make a right at the end of that long shelf... to the right of you, there should be a section on psychology and philosophy... feel free to gently stroke the spines of the books as you pass by... I’m sure they will like that very much. Somewhere in that chaos you might find your beloved Nietzsche... just keep walking until you get to the end of that row and make a right... just a few more steps and you will come to an entrance to another room on your left... you might have to jump over a couple of boxes... and if you can... past the biographies of long dead American presidents and a few Europeans... in the history section by the very last shelf... I will be waiting... hungry and in need of the kisses you promised... and if you can’t make it... I will leave you a poem hidden in the pages of the "Tale of Genji" which I keep a copy of in the back of the books on the third shelf from the bottom... or leave it there as a humble offering to the Gods of the written word that they too may know that I once wrote... inspired only by my lust...