Through the bookshelves he heard the displaced
Highway air, pushed under bridges and around glass --
The wail of machinery, progress,
What would happen if the bookcase behind him fell?
A wall of faded brown -- The Science of Kinetics -- would hide
The pressured student. Pages would fly through the air
Dancing with eachother, shaking off gray neglect.
Perhaps, out the window
Into a windshield and tossed
aside with another howl from
rubber on steel
Maybe a chain reaction -- A bookcase may slam into another, dragging everything
Maybe someone would rush, making sure he’s all right, to find the pen locked in
mid-scrawl -- Suddenly, everything frozen.
The turnpike finally silent; the clocks finally silent; the
air finally silent.
Everything stationary and perfect.
away; perhaps back; perhaps returning?
The silence is broken by the
snapping sound of gum on teeth
and more excruciating movement outside.