The Relative Importance of Two Simultaneously Posed Inquiries
I. Adelaide, in the library, waits for
the reference librarian, whose queue is
a few students deep, all, like Adelaide,
resigned to the fact that their journeys, both
academic and practical, at times
need the assistance of others, if not
for the answers, at least for directions.
II. And while awaiting the meeting with the
patient voice behind the desk, another
question forges its way into her head,
by way of a well-placed poster, asking
what singular book you would choose to
possess if on a deserted island
you found yourself stuck. She digests this line
of inquiry, elevated now to
a level of relevance higher than
the one that placed her here at the outset.
III. Suddenly immediate, terribly
intriguing, and, hopefully, woefully
irrelevant, Adelaide is sent to
this imaginary island, casting
one-by-one her books into the sea,
watching as they float, the water wetting
the pages, facilitating the waves’
complete consumption of this cerebral
collection, sinking to the ocean floor,
sliding down her spinal cord and out of
the realm of possible choices to answer.
IV. Adelaide never does decide which book
she’d read while conceivably mortal, which
one would provide for infinite inter-
-pretation, the same pages different
each time that her fingers touch and turn them.
What is more, she has now forgotten the
reason why she placed herself into this
queue, a fact which, as it is her turn to
pose her question, causes some discomfort.
