It was my first day back in Boston.

The plan was to wander and reacquaint, the only item on the agenda being a visit to Trident Booksellers, because I simply must visit Trident Booksellers.

I packed Thomas the DSLR and my new Muji umbrella because of the forecast. I wanted to bring a book to read, but which one?

I knew I would be too excited, too high on Beantown-invoked adrenaline to stay put long enough to write a postcard let alone read a novel.

So I discovered a new Micro-Pleasure: Poetry on a Park Bench

For me, poetry is like a party I don’t really feel like going to, but when I get there it’s pretty awesome. I rarely go, hey, I reeeally feel like a poem right now, preferring to delve into stories, fiction or non. 

But I finally found a place for reading poetry, a new literary companion to my urban adventures. Sylvia Plath’s early poems were the perfect pocket size for my darting attention, perfect for reading on a park bench and pondering whilst staring onto the Common. It didn’t matter that every five seconds I was distracted by my surroundings, because five seconds was long enough to drink in another string of words, and my distraction was coloured by reflections of what I’d just read.

I assume, Reader, you are as familiar with the genius of Gilmore Girls.

Well, then you’ll remember the early episode in which our bookish heroine Rory packs a book of short stories, a biography, some poems, and a novel for her commute to school. Her baffled mother asks why she doesn’t give her shoulders a break and read one book at a time. Rory explains that she might feel like reading a certain genre over another depending on circumstances.

I finally understand.

What am I reading?

Maureen Johnson’s Girl at Sea sits on the coffee table for longer chunks of free time during the day.

Gisèle Scanlon’s The Goddess Guide rests by my bed for flipping through in the few minutes before I fall asleep.

And now, Sylvia Plath’s Poems lives in my backpack.

And what are you reading?

P.S. Happy birthday to my 할머니! :)