99poems/starwars

For weeks
I’ve stared
at the Star
Wars display
in the bookstore.
I’ll be glad
when it goes
away.
I sit on the
navy leather
sofa, as though
I am at home.
Adjusting the coffee
table to the length
of my legs.
Arranging
things as I
choose.
Familiar
with the clerks,
and how they
do their shifts.
Working the
floor, stocking
their section,
taking a turn
at the register.
Summer people
roam the store
in rubber sandals
and message t-shirts.
I study bodies
and gait,
read titles
tucked beneath
arms,
one on editorial
cartoons,
another on golf.
I watch a woman in
a black-and-white-checked
skirt, a round
stomach, what
they used to call
a bubble butt,
gathering a stack
of Star Wars
stuff,
and wish I knew
where the thermo-
stat was.

6/28/99