Afternoon. The sun is bright. It would be nice to stay out here but I must go print. Through the doors I go. Touch the magic door opener or will someone open the door for me? Walk past displays. There are books in glass cases. Does anyone bother to stop and read them? No. People walk past it. Someone worked hard to put this together. No one cares, no one ever does. But neither do I. No time to stop. I’m sure it’s interesting. They call us the human race. Keep going. Keep going. The second door opens. There are people. Look down? Look in their eyes? Avoid eye contact. Why is it so busy in the afternoon? The air is musty. Too many in one place. Walk past front desk. Avoid eye contact. How is it to work in the library? They have time to get work done. Must be nice. Librarians help lost books find homes again. The gate keepers of stories. Protectors. Organizers. Important job. The older librarians dedicated their lives to books. To stories. To people they meet through pages. Does anybody ask the librarians for help? Or are the librarians forgotten too. The human race. Keep going. Keep going. Stop? No. Move on. Move on. Everything moves fast. Printing. Look at the printer press. Does anyone notice it here in the library? Words on paper took longer to circulate. Slow machinery. Now it works fast like us. Keep moving. Print. Another display. New books. Always new books. What happens to old books. Have we lost them all? The more we try to save the more we lose. There is too much to know. I must print. Many faces at computers. I do not know them. I recognize them. Will these faces mean something to me in a year? There are faces that mean something to me now that did not before. How many times have I passed someone in the universe that would later mean so much? Take a seat. Many hands have been here. Germs. I do not sleep much. I hope I do not get sick. We transmit diseases without even touching the person. Invisible connections all around us. Login. Always forget password. Human race. Forget move on. I should write it down. I will later. Print essay. Are there mistakes I didn’t see? Probably. Too tired to check. How many hours do we spend on things that don’t matter? Too much time. Not enough time. Writing. Writing. Human race. Writing takes time. It is not a race if it is done well. Print. Login again. What is in a name? Our names are now number. 20438329. ID. Am I a number? Identification please? Yes, my name is 20438329. Print. Printer E. It works faster. Human race. Prints. Essay feels good. Warm. Heat is energy. Human Race. Keep going. Keep going. It is easy to feel lonely. Keep going. Keep going. We forget how to care about anything. We forget how to care about people. Human race. Someone is forgotten. I am forgotten. But maybe I do not want to be remembered. Conflicted. Like being alone but feel lonely. We are walking contradictions. Reflections of loneliness. Paper print. Extra time. Walk around the corner to see if there are empty seats. Groups of friends laugh. No one I know. Sit down by window. It is hot. Sun through the window. They never put the shades down. Heat. Energy. Motion. Human race. People walk by. You can see everyone from the library windows. They never know you’re watching. Distracted. Should read for tomorrow. Never start early enough. Look around. It seems everyone has a place to belong. What does it feel like? It must feel nice. Does anyone really belong to anybody when we can’t even belong to ourselves? Questions. No answers. Always in the void. Within and without. Can’t focus here. Too loud. If I were laughing too it would be okay. Not laughing. Alone.
Round the
Corner
Up the
Stairs.
Second Floor.
Quiet.
Easy to get lost in the library. Nooks and crannies. Easy to hide. Walk towards windows. Always someone in my seat. Walk further. Yes. Sit. Chair by window. Look down. They are all going to lunch. Food. Lunch rush. Keep going. Keep going. Human race. Book. Yes. I must read. Reading is a distraction. Book. Ulysses episode 5. Bloom. Begin.
His life isn’t a bed of roses
Flowers of idleness
Petals too tired to
Walk on roseleaves
A yellow flower with flattened petals
I think of you so often you have no idea
Language of flowers.
They like it because no one can hear
No roses without thorns
A languid floating flower.
Close book. Race Begins. Rush to class. Bloom.
End.
Literary Ambitions 