conversation with the unreinvented self
while standing outside a record store
looking in


( the local library
has music
for loan.
it’s free
it doesn’t gather

on the living
room floor
in that mess
of books, papers,
and things. )

	what about the thrill of
	discovering that right find?
	knowing I can’t afford it,
	getting it anyway.

	weaving my way
	past the ones
	I’ll get next time
	and all those
	I’ll keep my eye on.

	at the counter,
	the clerk’s acknowledgment
	respect
	small talk
	a nod
	a smile
	until next week.

( you can’t hear everything at once,
time to slow down. )

	it’s a culture
	you’ll never understand.
	a business degree is
	great for businessmen,
	but I don’t care
	about business.
	
	all I ever wanted
	was to be that guy 
	behind the counter
	with the canvas hightops
	and indie label
	tee-shirt.

	I am not that guy, 
	just his ally
	sharing secrets
	speaking in code,

	which group begat which group
	which band stole from which band
	those artists ahead of their time
	those behind. 

	you’ve never
	been in that moment.
	drinking beer, dancing in the dark
	headphones on 
	and the next dim morning
	a distant threat away.

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