Sleeping With Macbeth
Woman in a Bookstore
There is nothing as alluring as a woman in a bookstore,
Casually strolling through the aisles.
Looking for a story, to be swept away.
She is looking for something more.
Someone just has to step in.
The way she touches the books as she passes.
Her fingers rising and falling in a playful, teasing manner.
The way she decides on a volume to pick off the shelf.
Her eyes widening as a wave of recognition flows over her.
Is this the one she has been looking for?
The way she looks at the front cover and then thoughtfully turns it over,
Something has sparked her interest.
She puts down her coffee cup and opens the book.
She smiles at the few words she has read.
Contemplating buying it, contemplating a commitment.
This is a woman who has opinions.
This is a woman who thirsts for more.
This is a woman who you can talk to and laugh with.
Reading a book is not instant gratification.
Its joy comes from taking the time to listen and absorb another reality.
It comes from being open to more than the mundane.
She will have a relationship with something more than a blip on the screen
And she will be faithful until the story is finished.
A natural ending to a sensuous relationship.
She has wept, she has laughed.
She has given her all.
And then she has moved on.
If the writer is good, she will be back because she craves his words.
If the writer is not up to her hidden passions,
She will put it down without another thought.
Her time is too precious to waste on mediocrity.
Yes, I love a woman in a bookstore.
Preferably a used bookstore with dust on the shelves.
There are no coffee shops in here.
Only books and secluded crannies
Where love can begin
In the pages of an old book.