Neon Libraries

I am not fond of neon nightclubs

or watered-down bars.

Nor do I enjoy courting

divorced queens and their

promiscuous daughters while

the single kings practice their

intimidation tactics across the

dance floor as failed fathers.

I prefer to dance alone on soggy parquets

amidst foggy waters with aid from

acoustic instruments courting hideous

creatures and friendly monsters.

I am a simple man with simple feelings.

For I prefer finger painted closet doors

and Christmas lights dangling from bedroom ceilings.

I once witnessed a murder between the bookshelves.

A raging fire ignited by failed negotiations between

Dwarves and Elves. Magic spells oozed from the

crispy pages. Sea salt filled the air, fighting for space

with famous apparitions with twisted faces.

Dinosaurs in biker leather searching for long-lost,

cursed pirate treasure. Knights in not so shining-

armor collected the heads of the dead Princes

stuck in the jaws of guillotines. This library,

now a warring submarine, has turned timeless books

into time machines for all who fancy addictions to coffee beans.