“Strict rules, which have been approved by the Hertfordshire County Council, are to be imposed by the Hyde Institute Library, Barnet-Vale. Library users in the future must not: Enter the library if their faces are offensively dirty. Fall asleep on the tables. Eat their lunches whilst reading papers, books, etc. Smoke in the building. Leave business cards behind. Make themselves a nuisance. Bring dogs within the portals. Tell lies to the librarian. Enter when they are in an inebriated condition.” –British Newspaper Archive/as memed on Facebook

When dirty liars come, and brave a glance
into the spiral stairways of her eyes
that hold, etched on her retinas’ round shelves,
the image of each lost and damaged book,
and lie to her—the librarian points
to her list of lies and demands the fine.

With what clairvoyance did the Council know
their users of the future? Did they guess
that patrons would leave business cards behind?
That they would open the doors to the dogs?
That they would read and eat and smoke before
hopping atop mahogany tables
to nap? And why would they time-travel back
to 1930—as a posh boy prank?
Or on a dare to enter drunk or high,
squandering time-machine fees for the thrill
of  telling lies to the librarian?

She knows them all: “I was on vacation.”
“I swear I dropped it in the slot last week.”
“My dirty dog ate pages two through twelve.”
“I’m not drunk.” “I’m not high.” “I never smoke.”
“But I can only sleep on hard tables!”
“Business is booming—I’ll make us all rich!"

What is it about a button-down blouse
and pencil skirt, long hair done up with pins,
and cat-eye glasses, that makes a man want
to lie, and want her to believe something
preposterous? “Let us leave the building,
you and I, whilst the evening sleeps spread out
upon a library table. Let us lie
as we are able.” They sense, deep in their
doggish hearts, that she who guards the sacred
citadel of knowledge can’t be fooled.
She’ll make them pay for dirty looks, and cast
them out the portals with their dogs and cards
and gin. And they will leave, chastised, and yet
relieved she’s still protecting everything
they haven’t read.

Published in Oh, Reader Magazine

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