The library was old,

but they had made it new.

It didn’t look better,

but it was bigger.

It was wide open,

and see-through.

Patrons mostly sat at computers.

They looked for jobs,

or played video games.

Attractive 20 somethings sat by the windows on the south end, overlooking the road.

The old and infirmed and unwanted spent time in the north.

They talked about scotch and the news.

The whole place was segregated by something I couldn’t understand.


I had time to kill;

the days were too long.

I was so desperate for something I couldn’t define or escape from.

Mostly, I worked the job and wished to be somewhere else,

but when the job ended, I didn’t want to go anywhere.

I walked the rows of books and opened them.

Nothing was new.

I looked at the people.

Most of them wanted something.

I wanted something.


I went to a party where they were trying to have fun.

They drank,

but the whole experience was very sobering.

The answers are just not there

and we keep looking in a maze of our own wandering.


7 thoughts on “We Keep Looking in a Maze of Our Own Wandering

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