June 16, 2007

Saturday's at Ada Books once had a festive air. There were people in the aisle, murmuring to themselves or to others. Books were removed from the shelves, pages fluttered, thumbs were wetted. Sometimes the books were returned to their places. Others times not. I even recall, on one or two occasions, the excited yelp of discovery. But now it's summer. Weather and tradition dictate that you wear shorts and flip-flops and put coconut creme on your skin. And I won't even mention beach reading. I think that's just an urban legend, a seaside tale. People don't read on the beach. At most, they put a bestseller on their face and go to sleep. If I thought differently, I'd pack this place up and join you there. And maybe I will anyway. Or just loll in the shadows of the nearest bar. Saturdays used to be my meat. But these days, they're nothing but bones. And these bones are bone dry.

No comments: