My Kind
by Bunkong Tuon


In the auditorium of the Long Beach
Public Library, bibliophiles move
their floppy bodies clumsily,
banging against the bins of fiction
which mirrors what they want in life.

From the atrium I watch and fall
in love with their vulnerability,
their black-rimmed glasses and messy
make-ups, their uncertain smiles,
clothes too large, bodies foreign.
They are sad, awkward, anxious,
nervous, enlightened of their dooms.






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