the walk to the library was long today
we stroll in with cups of coffee
in our hands
red fingers curling around stained
cardboard
sweet steam mixing with our breaths
in the air
to create dancing wisps against
a pink-orange canvas
our excited laughter instantly
quiets as we enter
and look away from disapproving glares
as always sitting requires a bit
of work
we drag chairs on top of surely damaged carpet
creating adjacent tables of four
our lips still smiling from the
attempt to suppress laughter
when we finally sit around each other
and in this
we find comfort
soon the tables become
an organized mess of
chromebooks running low
on battery
the accompanying tangled
black wires
notebooks open to Spanish notes written in pen or
physics formulas next to scribbled song lyrics
half-full Starbucks drinks
and eight varieties of highlighter
i look down to see a penciled-in smile 
in the margins
of my history notes and
a real smile greets me as i lift
my head
she knows it’s my worst subject

sixteen minutes and we are settled
i hear clicks of pen and fingers
on keyboards
they sound like raindrops
on window to me
and i start to write faster
my sister thinks it is too quiet here
but i think it is the loudest place
i’ve ever been
the air fills with an ambiance
of stress and imagination and originality
that can only be found
nestled here between books on
world religions and thyroid
diseases and homesteading
we browse these shelves
from time to time
all the way from Nietzche to
The New Yorker

we’re old enough to like non-fiction, you see 
the next time i look up i see
the sky is dark as the ink of my pen
i hope someone took a picture
of the sunset today
a sigh leaves my mouth in well-spent
exhaustion
we lock eyes once more
and that is all the consolation
we need
words unspoken but not unheard
seasonal depression is easier
to manage
when you’re not alone

at nine o’clock it is just three
of us left
two too unfocused at home
we know
one dreading the night home
the brick wraps its arms around her
and the windows beam at her with their stars
as the books wave her a temporary
goodbye
she would live here if she could

and the rest of us would too i think
sinking into armchairs too big
for us 
closing our eyes under the singing moon
and bulbs of friendly gold
strung ahead
a mother-like protection  
why wouldn’t we want to stay?

here we can feel we belong