Having your book of poems appear
at the local library branch
is much like being named
Pork Queen in the festival parade.
Like in football when you forward pass
and two of the three possibilities
are bad, the reasons why
your book shows up on the shelf
might be considered suspect.
“He’s not selling well
and the least we can do
is help out”. Or
“He’s not that great,
but still and all, he’s ours.
Besides, he might draw
a little more traffic
to the 800’s stack.
That can’t be all bad.”
Anyway, it’s patron’s comments
that count the most, the consistent
clucking of tongues collected
by the librarian like overdue fines—
Go figure. And all this time
I thought he was a regular guy.