Renewed, Unused

She texted the title with three exclamation marks.

The kind of text that means she read it in a weekend

and has been thinking about it ever since.

I typed: I'll check it out.

I mean it when I type it.

That's what I've been trying to figure out —

whether I mean it or whether I mean

that I want to be the kind of person who means it.

I renewed my library card last month.

Did it online in about forty seconds.

The barcode is unscratched. It sits

behind my debit card in the wallet

where the gym card used to be.

The last book I finished was on a flight.

Two years ago. I remember the turbulence

more than the ending. I remember

thinking: I should read more.

I used to read in the bath

until the water went cold.

I used to have a stack on the nightstand

that tipped over twice and I thought that was funny.

Now the nightstand has a phone charger

and a glass of water I refill without drinking.

I don't know when exactly.

I think I was tired,

and then more tired,

and somewhere in there the books

became one more thing I was about to get to.

I'll check it out.