POETRY

Napping in the library

by Neal Schuster

On a wet spring day, overcast and grey,
I walked alone to the library.
Over sidewalks listing, loads puddled;
Avoiding the slippery grass for a lack of bare feet.
Past branches like bottles of eyedrops
Hesitant, fearing a flood.

Inside it was humid with too many humans.
Chattering, huddling like so many birds
Hidden out of the damp in the world's ugliest tree
Locked up with cell phones, computers and deadlines
My senses reeled.

I found a fake wooden cubbyhole, next to the big books with pictures.
I put down the bag with the books I was carrying
Drank water from a calcium-stained fountain nearby
Heard the unceasing murmur of society all around me
Put on my headphones, a technological marvel, and slept.