Downtown

 

Walking along the downtown shops,
some with awnings, some boldly facing the sun.
Mostly women’s stores—
clothes, shoes, accessories—
their windows dressed like party guests waiting for conversation.

A drug store anchors the corner,
the kind that still sells postcards.
A hardware store sits shoulder to shoulder with a bookstore.

I drift into the hardware,
past fittings, tools, gadgets, and sinks,
rakes propped like sentries,
bins dripping with faucets.

Then into the bookstore—
aisles of adventures, both good and bad,
rows of strangers
telling their stories to no one in particular.
You only hear them
if you dare to open their book.

Into the drugstore I buy a $8.00 pocket watch,
knowing it will only last a week.