the librarian

was never like in the movies

glasses off

quick flick of the hair

& beauty unfolds

I guess she thought I was

some pretentious prick

snot nosed small town kid

taking out six books a day

not knowing I was reading

to escape the hell of home

needing refuge

from vicious peasants

who felt hate as the only passion

she’d arch her eyes each day

as I’d bring ‘em back


reading Hunter Thompson?

& social science?

in my bored way

I’d say:

pick a book, pick any page

& she’d thumb through

page thirty:

‘take a good rest, small bird’

& I’d say Hemingway

The Old man & the sea

she’d snort

not quite knowing what was happening

flare those ancient nostrils

stamp the books back in stock

& I’d go find some more escape

for today

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