It was an interesting thing
to be in a bookstore
with him.

The altered state came
almost immediately,
it was hard not
to notice the happening
of it.

It was an electricity
that changed,
charged his large
frame,

making him almost
mountainous.

For just a minute,
we were all blokes
who liked
books,

but he became
a book-buyer/bookseller
a few paces past
the threshold.

When he spotted that
one treasure, that particular
hardcover,
perhaps a first-edition,
he proclaimed
it’s value forthwith.

With his eyes wide,
a sidelong grin,
he dived into the pages,
inhaled deeply
through his nose.

Continuing,
he examines
the tome fastidiously,
expertly announces
the novel’s value
at thrice what the
shopkeeper is asking
and advances to the
counter.

Soon after,
we left that shop,
each of us weighed
down with brown paper
parcels.

Stowing those,
we then sought
smoked gouda,
beef sandwiches,
and potatoes fried
in duck fat.

It was time for lunch.

*

-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications; 2016