Friday, March 29, 2013


Under soft light  
the books 
look delicious and ripe. 

The Last Bookstore has an old-school vibe, a grocery or packing plant back in the day, angled shelves and back-lit racks of music on vinyl by the windows.

Two long red 
letherette sofas on a stage platform look good and I sit and read a few pages from 'Wild At Heart', about Lula Fortune and her uncle and he's groping her when she's fifteen or thirteen.   
I want to study how Barry Gifford writes this stuff. 

After I buy the book we stand outside on the sidewalk, smoking and talking. 

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