Still a teenager and wrapping customers’
books for Christmas at the bookstore.
Sun and snow and cold temperatures
making a giant snowball out of
all the cars in the parking lot.
My bossy retired teacher co-workers
like noble Muppets expertly leading
the customers around the different sections,
making recommendations, ringing them up,
bringing them over to the cheerful blur
of my wrapping station.
Getting so good at it that I feel
like I’m doing God’s work-
centering, folding, creasing, taping;
achieving perfection with the cheap
supplies given, making the books shine
with love.
I’m a brown-skinned elf working
my ass off for the people in a
sweet little stripmall bookstore.
I’m a Bruce Lee of Christmas book-wrapping
just slaying everything I’m handed.
I’m the Spirit of Christmas co-illuminating
one bookstore among many in the heartland
that’s busily doing its part in a
grand gift-conveyance of widespread love.
Skinny, unshaven, in flow, I turn
back to my coworkers behind the counter
and say, “I’m out of tape.
O, Christmas Hell, what’re we
gonna do?!”
Thanks for adding more meaning and feeling to the gift economy of written words.
Next year, when a couple more of your titles are in print, you could stage an author’s holiday book-wrapping at the same store!
Cliff, your gift-wrapping prowess would give Bruce Lee pause. You, like Bruce, are the spirit of the undefeated. Follow Watt’s suggestion of a return engagement to wrap your poetry books at the same store in the heartland, but bring your own tape.