A footstep sound and thunder faraway
Were closing time Tuesday, at the library.
Genealogy leads to contraries
All but remembered prequel yesterdays.
Conversation sped as we travelled through lights,
Results of the rain on numerous streets.
For example, their voices, true and sweet,
Uptight about slights, insights about rights,
Speaking eighteenth century at their peak
Of love and weather and news and dinner,
Raving like lunatics, then strangely reserved.
Caught out in a storm they won’t be well-served
Arguing the time about some sinner.
Literally, this is what’s going on as we speak.
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