The Cabal

All my friends

are important buildings,

And immediately they will let you know,

“I am a school.” “I am a court.” “I am a mall”

I am just a house for books they haven’t read;

Their faces are immortalized on Instagram posts,

Their stairs overflowing with people going up and down.

All my friends are important buildings,

adding wings to themselves.

Meanwhile a man has jumped from my ledge,

And it took hours for anyone to even notice.

Fancy cars park outside my friends’ doors,

A fresh coat of paint flaunts over their faces.

A busy man paces in their halls, in corner offices.

My corridors are empty, for a few who are alive on coffee,

And half of them work here, to keep me alive,

Like a patient in the ICU, attached to a monitor machine.

Do not fret, my friends say.

“They might demolish us any day. But, never a library.” They say.

“Remember when you panicked over computers replacing you?

That didn’t happen.” They say.

“I’d rather be a library for the silence”, the old school building says.

“Hush!” I say to my anxieties, my worries, like only a librarian can.