“Can you order this book for me?”

I ask the man at the public library.

It’s the only request 

I ever have for him.

One at a time, 

Books arrive 

From exotic towns like Urbana-Champagne, Illinois.

I don’t know why they never seem to have

The book I want, here, resting on

A convenient shelf, in this,

My hometown library.

But I always bring them back,

Without the need of a fine,

And each good book inspires another,

So I return, with a clever grin,

And a request, 

“Can you order this book for me?”

I ask him sweetly,

And he never turns me down.

Last night I dreamed

He turned to speak to me,

But I awoke before he finished 

What he wanted to say.

It started out, “If you promise...”

But faded with either, ...”never

To read them to me,”

Or “...ever to be near me.”

Either way, I’ve just finished the latest book,

And have my little satchel packed

To go and see him today.

And I will smile, and ask him extra kindly,

Extra sweetly, if he can order

Another book for me.

-jenn