We were kayaking in a library. I kept bouncing
my oar on bookshelves that hooted like owls
with each bump. Albino otters, like ideas, popped
in and out of the water to examine us with question
mark eyes. And then, they turned into torpedoes,
shot upstairs over a waterfall and exploded like
fireworks by the Astronony shelves. We paddled
into the History section and red water oozed like
molasses from cracks in the shelves. It seemed
that we paddled for centuries to escape History.
And then we floated into Philosophy and could
feel the weight of thick volumes shading the deep,
still water. Finally we reached the white waters of
Poetry. We plunged our oars into churning couplets
flowing over jagged verses and rode a rhyming
rollercoaster current for days.
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Copyright 2010
