Christopher P. P. White
The Girl In The Bookshop - Poem by Christopher P. P. White
I met this girl in a bookshop.
She was reading Tolstoy—
I was embarrassed as I held cheap erotica
And my breath.
She looked over her thick-framed
Glasses and asked
You get your kicks that way? with a smile.
It's not for me, I reply.
It never is.
She brushed her hair behind her ear;
Curls, golden streams of clarity,
Intoxicated and assured.
Lips like silk.
Her beauty made me nervous but
I didn't shy away.
You want to go for a drink?
Sure, she says.
She isn't my wife.
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