Waiting for Jim at the Bookstore

I wandered through the bookstore
and felt like a mouse. It was
a large, resonant cave
and I was a crawler on the stone.
In awe I slid over the floors
looking high, up at the shelves,
the unread words and witty titles
originating from godly names
in far away towers. The world of
life, things of life, things
looming huge. We are still alive
the books say. We share points
on public maps learned during
the hours our eyes are open.