For My Kind of People

For my people who duck behind shelves:

Hunched at the bottom

And fingers flicking over titles

For my people who blink, star eyed:

At diction pages, gibberish

At covers far too wide apart

For my people who twaddle-walk:

Under the weight of the classics

To the glassy gawks of the programmed mass

I salute you

Your:

Shatter-edge papers tucked in pages

Scribble notes, quotes, and articles for later

For my people who proudly slide over:

Cracked, warped, yellow-signatured,

Plastic remnants through washer trips.

Slim paper snicks are your battle scars -

Full-price purchases your bruised old purple hearts.

Remember, then:

It’s not the pairs of glasses that you own,

But the times you peer over the lenses that count.

The End

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