Hard stone skin
is slightly glittering,
temperature shifting
seasonally,
a place full of friends,
and literary kin.

Carnegie classic
home to the fantastic
collection.

Stairs to the entrance
and a black bannister
on which I slide
even though I was told
so many times
not to.

A sanctuary
from the abuse
a gateway
that I used
to escape my isolation
and find myself
enlightened and amused

friendly fictions
books well bound
my little safe space
in a redneck town.

Soon it will change.
They are not tearing it down
but building a better building
near the outskirts of town

But to Sarah, Kathy
Karen, and Tammy
whether you know it or not
you are my family
and though things change
as they always will
this was my home.

Let my poised obedience
Tip the scales and quicken your pulse

Let my body be a smorgasbord
Feast for your hungry eyes to devour

Let my silence speak in volumes
Resonating ardent desire

While your smile widens

The library smells
like ginger and coffee
and books that haven't seen the light of day since they were published

the sour scent of unopened pages
and the bittersweet commercialized coffee
diffuse throughout the building,

procrastination,
this is the smell of procrastination.

the air is swirling,
whipped along by the passers-by
its cool embrace is welcoming
gently blowing through me, onwards

cooling my mind as i brace
for the swell of tests and
tests and
tests

The coffee scent relinquishes,
as well as the task at hand,
and my dorm is calling me