Erik Rittenberry

A little black coffee in my mug,
walkin’ the dingy, dusty aisles
for hours taking in the musty scent
of century-old hardbacks. Browsing
the shelves, reading vintage
love letters scribbled on back covers
from a time no more. Flipping through
wine-stained pages. Finding rare little
gems stacked in the back where
Poe sits sullenly on top of Tolstoy.
Dostoyevsky next to Dante.

It’s so damn tragic
that these second-hand
bookshops — these dark
dens of wisdom –
are slowly vanishing
into the crevices
of time.

Thanks so much for reading. You can find me around the internet at the following: