Places have a peculiar effect on me
like the city library
I go there, after work
and the librarians like me
“Do I have anything on hold? Interlibrary loans or DVDs?”
Finding out the secrets of the universe
is only one check-out, away.
The Butch librarian with spikey white hair and a checkered flannel shirt
catches me reading, while walking at the same time. “That’s dangerous!” She said.
“It’s dangerous when I do it while I drive.”
“You don’t do that!” She said in shock.
“You’re right—but I probably could chew gum, walk and read at the same time.”
“Can you pat your head and rub your tummy too?”
I’ve never tried.”
I even get along with the feminists who hate men—at the library
but at work, it’s a different story
I’m accepting of everyone, where I like to be—
but at work, I find their quirks and foolish whims—to be the ingredients of insanity.
One of the librarians is obsessed with my interlibrary loans
and she spots my books in philosophy from obscure colleges in the heartland of the United States—
they probably haven’t been read in over 100 years.
“Let me just check to see where this one is from,” she said. “I like to check. Oh, Indiana State University.”
Places shape my personality
I’m different—the different places that I go
and my attitude changes how I feel, and how people feel about me.