On Library Time

On Library Time

The blind thing was happening
in the library parking lot where cars were lined tic tac toe straight lines to my left and to my right. Every space was taken by a faceless person leaning back in the driver seat, reading a blank book without a title.

The sun blinked on the horizon of pavement, facilitating the shadows, readying the climb up the rope

In front of me were trees with limbs that lose leaves in winter but lean without effort in the face of death and wait, unaltered, for a resurrection.

I look at my own book. The title is there and it reads, ” The Library Does Not Open Until 10 AM”
My clock says 9:59 and I forget what I came here for. I look at the trees for an answer.

The mockingbird flies away as I reach for my unlock button. The trees echo her absence and look away toward her flight.

Walking to the library door is a task for faith and I feel my knees buckle when I see the sign reads ” Mon-Fri: 10 AM- 6 PM”

It is Monday morning, I am sure of that.

I peer inside. There are people inside and they too are faceless. When I turn back toward the parking lot to leave, the tic tac toe of cars is lined up for the exit and they are leaving one by one, pouring out from nothing.

I unlock my car door and get back inside. The clock says 10 now. I look back at the library’s front doors and I see the librarian unlocking them for the day.
She has a face beneath her rimmed glasses.

I go inside. The librarian greets me with a smile and the shelves are filled with books. They all have titles and they brim with color. The blinding thing that was happening is blinking toward the rope burned sun, regaining vision.

The church clock is chiming the 10th hour and the sun rolls her eyes and creeps heavenward with the rope in her hand. Come 6 pm, she will hang from the trees again.

J. Ann.

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