Travel trouble,
Dumbfounded in the wrong location,
Lights out no sparse communication,
But the trouble starts to simmer,
My finger pointed in the mirror,
Why can't I read the little print,
Right there! The middle muddled int-
-erspersed in all the email text,
And all of me but none the world perplexed,
A humble even quiet call to be somewhere else entirely.

Heavy halls,
I'm told of weight so ancient here befalls,
The stench of books and history told,
Wafts viscous through the sun-lit streets,
And words amount to tiny hills,
That slot into the library walls.