Mum in the library
Why the fuck are you talking to your children
At such volume.
I am old and I would imagine that
If you keep their ears clean
It's most likely
Their hearing is better than mine
Yet I can hear you clearly
Way over here in the biography big print section.
They are standing next to you.
And they are listening
They are attentive
They are figuring out
How to return their books
With silently humming machine help
And no help from you.
I can hear that you are rightly so proud
Of them.
They are your replacements after all.
Are you imagining they don't hear you?
Yes, yes, they're a good example
And you're a good example
You've got your children at the library, after all
I know they're here
Everyone in this place
nows they are here
They'll take after you, maybe
Not to be hushed
At a moment to be somewhat hushed
Not that you tried
Not even here
Maybe they'll be self aware like you
I can't figure it out
But among the books
I'm firing up this phone
and scribbling vitriolic notes
into it.
I've got little better to do
I know the library needs the foot traffic
I know The Library needs [the most disparaging word for] the flotsam that's in here that I can't find it right now
I know the library needs the computer users,
The browsers and
The borrowers
And the endless list of extra curricular activities
But what about a modicum
Of fucking decorum
From a mom to a mom.
This library needs that too.
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