There was an old man with a beard
browsing books with eyes that said
boredom but a mouth that twinkled full
of ideas and saliva. I watched him
through stack slits to see if he’d pick books
or his nose. His fingers never moved
towards his face, so I eyed his battered
briefcase. Don’t think people won’t steal
what you’d give them for free. People will
put their grubby hands all over your
Dewey numbers, if you let them. But, upon
closer inspection, he was eyeing up 346.078,
so he wasn’t a pervert, but a victim. It means
Social Science; it means Law; it means
Bankruptcy. The poor man was walking with
purpose, like it mattered. But it doesn’t always.
Take your time, old man. Shrug your shoulders
back and lose the posture. We know you’re
tired; you want a nap; you want a snack
and a comb for your beard. So, nestle in with the
lions-- they’re more welcoming than gruff. Use
their teeth to sharpen your knowledge and then
flash it ferociously when this city seems too tough.