At the corner of Broadway and Columbus Streets. There's a guy playing the cello underneath an installation of flying books. The entrance to Jack Kerouac's alley, downtown skyline, tourists walking in line clutching their guidebooks.
At the poetry room, now I finally understand why they named this bookstore City Lights. To the left of the poet's chair, a sign that says Welcome. Have a seat and read a book. There's always a poem that knows exactly how your heart feels at any given moment.