Like it - and agree with poem-a-day.
Andrew
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On 24 February 2016 at 19:37, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Like the tone of this, Max, generally esp the contrasts and camaderie
> between the narrator and bookseller. The crash part might be announced more
> in context perhaps, so interrupting the afternoon idyll so surprisingly. Is
> the poem at the end one which the bookseller himself wrote? Slightly
> unclear to me.
>
> Bill
>
> On Wednesday, 24 February 2016, Sheila Murphy <[log in to unmask]>
> wrote:
>
> > This is so pure, Max.
> > I love what this shows. At the close, I might think of not saying
> directly
> > "senior whisky-poet," but keep it subtle in the style of the rest.
> > Beautiful.
> > On Feb 23, 2016 11:31 PM, "Max Richards" <[log in to unmask]
> > <javascript:;>> wrote:
> >
> > > Down in Horizon Books
> > > 10th Avenue, Seattle
> > >
> > > With an afternoon to kill
> > > I should find somewhere
> > > to sit and read the book
> > > in my shoulder bag
> > >
> > > but first why not check
> > > the basement shop
> > > where I like to chat
> > > with the old book dealer
> > >
> > > before a good long browse
> > > along his crowded shelves
> > > and temptation mostly
> > > resisted? I need my tiny
> > >
> > > pocket flashlight for his
> > > lower shelves, and skip
> > > entirely his upper ones.
> > > No one about but me
> > >
> > > and him - he squeezes past
> > > popping out for a smoke
> > > (was that a whisky whiff?)
> > > and squeezes back into
> > >
> > > his messy corner, ice-
> > > hockey on his screen
> > > yonder, book info on
> > > his computer. Two coats
> > >
> > > on the backrest of his
> > > old swivel chair, top-heavy.
> > > Temptations pile up -
> > > poets, books about poetry.
> > >
> > > Crash! - along at his end -
> > > a quiet voice saying Help?
> > > - help me up. The old man
> > > is sprawled on the floor
> > >
> > > tangled in his swivel chair,
> > > betrayed by it. To lift him up
> > > would take a stronger man
> > > than me. At least I can
> > >
> > > heave the tangling chair
> > > aside. Can we grip each other’s
> > > arms? - not well. He says:
> > > leave me be a while to rest.
> > >
> > > I retreat to European history,
> > > peeking at him now and then.
> > > Shall we try now? Not yet.
> > > We have the shop to ourselves.
> > >
> > > Settled on just four books, I check
> > > my watch. Better get him up.
> > > His gesture indicates some
> > > stomach muscle weakness.
> > >
> > > He’s shifted to a possible
> > > standing effort, and holding
> > > one elbow, one armpit, I
> > > ease him up and help him sit
> > >
> > > in that pesky swivel chair.
> > > He asks after my dog.
> > > I help him tote up my
> > > purchase, stow books away.
> > >
> > > He says You taught? I
> > > had a young instructor -
> > > she told us she’d just sold
> > > her first story - a hundred dollars! -
> > >
> > > to Playboy. They said We won’t
> > > use your first name, just
> > > U. K. LeGuin. You have
> > > a future. Bookseller said:
> > >
> > > just now a young man put
> > > a poem in my hand - it’s here
> > > somewhere. But all he could
> > > find was a xerox of his wife’s
> > >
> > > handwritten journal - Roma
> > > to Venezia - what they saw,
> > > where they ate, the brusque
> > > waiter, the train fares.
> > >
> > > Long ago. The ice hockey
> > > has morphed into some
> > > animated program.
> > > Here’s a poem. It’s good
> > >
> > > to write something every day.
> > > He has the musical voice
> > > of a senior whisky-poet
> > > and I’m touched, and leave.
> >
>
--
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
Books available through Walleah Press
http://walleahpress.com.au
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