Venus In Gemini

By Mary Jo Wevers

Love
in a bookstore.
What could be more enticing?
So many books, so many words.
Ideas flitting off the pages, out of book jackets, over shelves
like clouds of yellow butterflies born away by the wind.
How many can I catch?
I want to collect them all.

I move through the aisles with a quick step,
wings upon my feet.
My hands reach for them:
Psychology
Ornithology
Art history
Mysteries
Romance?
Why not?

I love
the variety,
each new subject,
the details,
the intrigue,
the excitement of it all.
Why settle down in an armchair with just one?
The stack next to my bed proves
I can read more than one at a time.

My arms full of books
I turn turn down another aisle
my eyes on the top shelf
and I run into you.
Each armful of books crashing to the floor,
yours and mine.

Words burst like balloons from our mouths,
while sorting through the mess.
I ask about the journal.
You say you are a writer.
Are you witty?
Are you clever?
Are you curious?
Can we talk?