Summer 2003
	Richard Lehnert
	To Knowing
	In a bookstore hidden speakers mumble a jazz tune I know from an album I know well
	I ease up to the still clerk stooped white-haired behind his neatly cluttered counter
	tilt my heads to one side and as if asking but only to impress say isn't that and then name
	the player and the song of the tune he's not sure and as I say I know it is
	what I say it is my voice telling myself what I know rises hard and big and stiff
	not quite smiling or meeting my barely seeing gaze he leans his own head to a gentler cant
	and says in calm so still I almost do not hear well then I guess you know