The good old days, the good old days
Good old days to remember.
Sitting in the library,
her shelves of untouched books threatening
to suffocate us.
Choke us with her years of dust.
We tralala along here,
Dancing through the aisles
Endless words covering page after page
Soon fall softly as tears of neglect.
They’re so solemn and neat.
All in lines like dewey decimal decoys of the paperback type.
Sitting perched in their places, some of them defiantly
residing in the wrong spots----
They do it on purpose.
They told me so last June.
It’s a revenge tactic against the librarians
who constantly reshelve them.
A mind game of sorts, if you will.
I’d be bored too if I were an antiquated library book
stuck staring at the same 35 damn books within my eye span
since the last time I was out in the real world…
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