I saw Seamus Heaney onceat Grolier’s Bookstorein Harvard Square, which carriedonly poetry. He waslifting and looking at booksjust like I was. I knew whohe was, but had not readhis poetry. It crossedmy mind to ask him ifI could buy a beer for him. He saw me see him, smiledsaid nothing, just went on looking. I think he left not long after andI forget if I … Continue reading Grolier’s Bookstore by Frank Freeman