Fears

Walking up to the circulation desk, books in one hand library card in the other Sliding books across the shiny, marble counter top to the woman, who stands tall on the other side with her mother-of-pearl rimmed glasses nestled in the crevice of her full bosom the glasses hang from her neck on a glass beaded chain She asks for my card and without a word I place it in her open palm I'm holding my breath as She slides the card smoothly, then frowns Her lips part and she begins to speak- But my body's turning I'm running I'm running before she gets me Before she grabs my collar and shakes me Before I'm locked up for being such a bad bibliophile There's a hold on my account I'm banned I'm black-listed I'm prohibited There's a hold on my account and I can't check out any more books