upon entering your doors, I inhale deeply
breathing in the smell of paper, ink, the glue of bindings
at once I am at home and lost
unable to decide where to begin my quest
within your vast walls of knowledge
I want to learn Italian, ancient ceremonies,
the name of the flowering tree in the park,
how to use my new camera, new vegetarian dishes,
the type of hawk that circles above my woods
hours slip by unnoticed as I drift between shelves
often sprawling out in the floor with my treasures
trying in vain to decide what I cannot leave without
choosing carefully the nourishment for my mind and soul
I leave with a sigh of satisfaction and regret
hurrying home with a feast as large as my arms can carry
already plotting the course of my next escape
first published on www.strondes.com in September 2005
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