I know a few poets. Actually, I know a great many poetic people, but I really do know a few published poets. So whenever I go into a new book store, I always look for a copy of one of the books by one of these friends. I seldom see them. Poetry sections are generally small and then heavily occupied with who-is-academically-pop-at-the-moment and the regular-required-reading-list.
But not so at City Lights Bookstore, as you would expect. Whole second floor is Poetry and a big section of Beat fiction with several shelves devoted to Kerouac which was a backdrop for a group of Japanese tourists taking photos of each other.
I started looking over the floor to ceiling (low ceiling, but ceiling nonetheless) bookshelves of thin books of poetry by so many poets printed by nearly as many little presses.
Then I saw yours, well one of yours, one copy of one of your books: All-Night Lingo Tango
I pulled it from the shelf and thumbed through the pages, reading lines here and there, titles and ending lines, many openings. Was nice to see your name there on the spine and on the cover and to see your words all over the pages.
The room continued to fill with tourists and a few sincere literature hunters, and I needed to go, but instead of putting the book back on the shelf, I laid it on the featured books table in the middle of the room. I wanted to make sure someone else saw it, soon.
(second floor, City Lights Bookstore)