the closing of a bookstore,
small or large, is a tragedy.
the closing of the borders at
penn plaza - seventh avenue and
33rd street - feels personal.
before work, to relax and
read the paper, i went to the
cafe. at the window overlooking
seventh avenue i watched the weather:
umbrellas in the rain, snow falling on concrete.
the seasons changed on billboards.
i schmoozed with shannon
who worked full time and studied in the evening until
she left to pursue her vocation at a salon uptown,
sherry who is writing her thesis,
jason who became the father of twins.
i sketched, met friends, overheard conversations
we saw it coming. amazon. the nook and kindle.
the price of paper. it's a sort of progress.
i hate change. i'll find another place
for morning coffee and reflection
but the borders cafe was special.