the delivery
driver got lost
an hour past
his arrival time
i still sit
in a lbrary
without books
wasting my day

despite my best
attempts to stay
busy enough to
avoid having to
spend any time
in my own head
the universe itself
conspires to bring
about my downfall

so i sit here
watching people
waiting for my
phone to ring
in a library
without books
as anxiety steeps
a rancid brew

i could waste
my own day in a
parking lot
overlooking a
park as the words
percolate unbidden
scribbling lines
as i run from
certain inalienable
self truths

a bookless
library
is the same as
a bipolar bard
useless except
for the memories
of words
unrestrained