over due books

I hear music

next door where
the two librarians
live.

I've never heard music
before

coming through the vent,
vibrating the walls.

for years they've been
quiet as church mice.

but what's this,

laughter?

are they dancing?
I see other people arrive

walking up the sidewalk with
plates of food

bottles of wine.
I see the door open, the hugs,

the smiles
the joy in their eyes.

it's a party. I slump
into the big

chair, the dog hops
into my lap.

licks my face. then I see
the stack

of books on the table, all
of them

months overdue. I understand now
the non
invite.

the fault is all mine.