Modern Day Confessions

Mass-produced books for 4.99

on manufactured faux-wooden shelves.

The smell of new books and the whiff

of perfume by the young

sales clerk who just walked by;

she smells like a sampling of every

perfume vial from the shop next door-

you know the ones that promise

a night of unforgettable moments

and rapture-

fantasies come alive through

glass bottles.

A woman at the counter

talks to the clerk about some books

she's read. She makes her voice

loud enough so those around might

gain from her vast knowledge.

I snicker cause I know that is not

the way of the wise, but

I'm the world's

biggest hypocrite.

The little cafe brews some

liquid delicious from Arabia-

a reason to tack on an extra

five dollars.

Exotic, my friend,

doesn't come cheap.

In a scorching hot car

with a copy of Purgatorio,

I wonder which level

I'm in now and where in hell

is Beatrice.

At the traffic light,

I spot a beautiful bird

on the sidewalk.

I rush to pull out my camera

so I can capture this moment-

and post it on Facebook.