in these many years that i have lived, or loitered, in columbus i have always lived within a little square of city that is four blocks by three blocks. there is a kroger here (which is where i get my coca-cola) & an exterminator's office whose windowfronts are filled with giant plastic halloween decorations of rats & spiders. also there is a library.
technically the library is outside the square although it can be seen from the perimeter.
there is a boy who works at the library & i believe he has it in for the man, or the library's version of the man. over the years he has erased at least $200 in fines for the two of us, surreptitiously. we approach the circulation counter with our new books to check out & our wallets to pay our fines (we are very bad about the due dates) & he will say, "fines? no, i don't see any fines." (also when we get home we find out he has automatically renewed anything we have checked out, even if other people across the city are waiting for our items.)
i love this boy. he is just the sort of boy you would expect to find in a library. he is way quiet with thick glasses. he erases fines for us & i wonder does he do it for all the girls.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:i have been reading seamus heaney, because i was looking up the one about anton ("chekhov on sakhalin," station island) & thinking about when the plane i was in flew over sakhalin. this is from a different poem:
That day the clatter of stones
as we climbed was a sermon
on conscience and healing,
her tears a startling deer
on the site of a catastrophe.
also i have been biting my nails & feeling the twitch in my knee.
