Bret says, “This is something I scrawled while working in the public library one afternoon, absently watching the action at the Information Desk.”
Informant sits with scowling lips.
His beard is trimmed and grey.
His Ph.D. in history’s
a mystery nowadays.
He’s asked for pulp and fashion mags,
puerile rags for philistines.
He hands out codes of network nodes
to aimless listless AIMing teens.
He dreams of days Athena ruled,
erudition all the rage.
Back when students begged for school…
He stops and sighs and turns the page.