I take too many books with me to school
I hide behind them like
a wall at the end of the playground
an empty baseball field dugout
the last bathroom stall
to avoid the press and strain of unpredictable interaction
books rest
they are patient
and endure without changing
on the outside books may deteriorate
but even my oldest books
the ones I carry in baggies because they're so fragile
persist
Ms. Browning's sonnets never devolve into ad slogans
Mr. Frost's musings won't compress into txt msgs
books respond
their words are stalwart
and ideas ever reliable
when impermanence threatens, I can trust them
on the playground
in the dugout
inside the stall
or anywhere else at school