San Francisco public libraries. I bow to the many who created our libraries with all their services and all their beauty. I venerate the tree that produces so much ripe fruit. Every little branch is great.
The Mission branch is as dear as a family member. I order books, they appear on the shelf by the door. Check-out is a breeze. I always remember my PIN.
Books. I palm their heft. Mine for three weeks. The library sends you an electronic notice just before they’re due. Isn’t that thoughtful? And when they are overdue, the fine is what, 10 cents a day?
I dive into books by people I never heard of. They are free to be masterpieces. They are free to be duds. I look at picture books of Elizabeth Taylor. I nibble on Kafka’s Collected Works and take a lick of Proust. I get a 6-CD set of Pema Chodron that I listen to in my truck as I’m driving so I don’t call other drivers dumb #*!#heads. At least not as often.
Beneficent library, acme of civilization, I hope you know how much you are appreciated.