Whispery
Falling in love with the librarian,
eye contact over a book pile
I've plopped down on the countertop,
my heart races faster than the rate on late fees.
She's pursed her lips so not to register the ring
up clacked out? Ink-blurry, the amount owed,
the receipt runs numbers into my sweaty palm
as she flaps my Dewey Decimals of cash dry.
Double doors click shut behind her exit.
Drafts dilute her air-conditioned scent.
Her shout released in another man's arms
revving her Ford, they drive off.
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