it smelled like musty news and
clairvoyant spines and
so maybe you
were behind the seaweed and sea
of pages all this time.
it sounded like breaks in the index
so painstakingly prefix that
i wish you had
please called before venice.
it tasted like wrinkles but
not for sale
the ones that take ages
of glass and ink to retail.
please rid the library of myself