three o' clock in the afternoon
i enter a bookstore with overpriced books
no money, no buying. just
seeing
feeling
smelling
being.
used books
old, musty
i open one, bring its pages
up to my face.
inhale
dusty, musty scent
nearly overpowers me.
old, decaying, coming apart.
new books
fresh, clean
too clean
i open one, only slightly
to preserve the spine
a fresh
medical
scent.
natural, yet polished.
reception desk
a young man
is spraying a spray bottle
on its surface
the pungent, artificial
scent,
the scent of artifice imitating
nature, penetrates the air
lemon, maybe?
the air feels
clean
and sickening. the scent of
lemon
is soon overpowered by
bleach. i wave goodbye
goodbye.
