Black wheels turned to roll an aisle where books grow into walls.
After regaining an Alice-like sense of proportion, you can start
to follow the letters, heart-scudding along, forgetting all cares
as the great names click into place.
I came to a book that had a cover that grew like some natural thing.
I held it in my hands. It was a dusty green with a symbol on the spine:
the Egyptian ankh. I put it in my bag. The first person to borrow this
book in twelve years. After another similar time span. Left to ferment.
I rode the silvery path not noticing the cars blurring around me
but heard a black heart beating in the deep shades made by a leafy
lane where, according to the general guidance given, you need to be
on your guard.