March 23rd, 2014

head in the books

(no subject)

I remember finding out you had access to the elevator that led down to the secret stacks. And the first elevator ride. You gave me no sign you had a thought in your head about me. Meanwhile my mind was racing. Some places that house books are clean and bright, and you could eat off the floor. Others are bleak cellars that entomb the dust that old books have dragged around with them for decades. These cellars are the greatest places in the world. You got caught up in some text on your phone while I was managing in my mind some pretext for staying down here, talking to you, things that would come in time, but not this day. The elevator ride up was that feel of disappointment when the shower turns just a few degrees colder. Exactly what was needed, it turns out. But to say it turns out is to give too much away.