A POEM

Library visit with mister four-and-three-quarters

Boots resolutely reversed

he commandeers the cracked sofa

his world patched together with hope and hubris

my lap, for now, headquarters for his orbiting logic

i try to trap this moment in my marrow even as my brain wanders

pages turn like soft seasons as he corrects me:

the dragon needs three roars

bears don't wear trousers

zombies are nocturnal

he recites the canon of his world

buoyant in his sureness

he always chooses too many stories

our curated tower always wobbles

a monument to entropy

he doesn’t yet know

what narrative foreshadowing is

but I do

his books will get heavier as his stories stretch further away from me

this moment, a space where couplets and onomatopoeia conspire

we linger in the prologue

amidst the tai chi posters and beach reads

for now, time pauses and he is still mine