By: Amberdawn Collier

The only thing that can be relied on

is a lighted Barnes and Noble at

twilight

True, it lacks the musty smell of

a library's old paper,

the sound of crinkling pages,

But it has the smell of coffee, and

better ye, hot chocolate.

There is no mandate of silence

though everyone's voice is low--

a faint murmur that sings with the

hum of the cappuccino machine

Clean, glossy, new things are all

that exist in this sphere,

Even the wodden chairs are comfortable,

molding to the curves of your body,

beckoning to you

with you armful of books

The characters here are of a set list:

The college students-sick of crowded

university libraries with dour staff

and too poor to buy,

sit side by side downing caffinated beverages at an

alarming rate

The older couples, often in 2 pairs,

gater in the safe atmosphere--

Somky coffee houses are a little too

avant garde

for these suburbanites

The lonely singel men,

sitting with books of Hume and Aristotle

trying desperately to find meaning

in what they call life

and we can not forget

The friendly and knowledgeable staff

who never stare if you sit all day

and walk out without having spent

a dime

The colors are always the same as well

light wood on the floors, a deeper cherry

for the racks and railings

Forest green floors-giving a false yet comforting impression

of earth.

Creamy soft walls-warm, loving, inducing

deep thought.

MIxed with the chaotic rainbow of

hundreds of thousands of titles and covers

hundreds of thousands of pleas for attention

The neediness-uncompromising, begging,

draws me.