I stroll these aisles in almost-silence.
and forgive the guy at the keyboard
for his unlibrary-like cell phone jabbering.
My flip flops thwack thwack thwack
a metronome beat between my bare soles and the floor.
The air isn’t heavy in this place, but almost.
I was looking for something
when I got up and began this stroll
But now? Now I am hypnotized.
I am hypnotized by the samenesses and regular differences
row upon row upon of shelf after shelf after shelf.
Endless variations of differing proportions of rectangles and squares make up the shelves’ occupants.
Here, the volumes of a series on home improvement:
obediently lined up like a family for a potrait.
Identically sized and fonted as it is.
And now the art section,
burdening the nondescript shelves.
Some stretching up, some reaching out, and drawing my eyeball with dignified arrangements of colors.
I am surprised that I could not take more than a few steps
with out finding Oprah Winfrey in this place:
Diet books, fiction backed by her, biographies pros and cons.
I am only slightly more surprised
by the sheer vastness of this place.
How many volumes times how many pages times how many words on a single page?
There must be an answer to this place.
I thrill at the thought
If there is an Answer there must be one in this place!
But I am pulled from my reverie, and I look around.
An answer? Most certainly…
But how am I ever going to find it?