Tonight he’s bent

at the waist, arms outstretched

like airplane wings, legs akimbo. Not his best pose,

but each time I visit the bookstore I find

him changed. It’s a semblance of life,


despite his featureless face. Maybe a reflection. Last week,

he was upright, and his posture and arms clearly meant

What’s up, bros? I liked that one. The week before,

he was hugging himself, crouched

down. Something bad happened that week. Perhaps


next week, I will finally muster the courage

to touch him, to leave him

posed just so.



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