Bibliolust

by

Anne Michael

Smell –inhaling deeply
Running fingers
along the spine
the way a lover might
A Pandora’s Box
So full of words
So full of pages
Bound into a kind of slavery
Marshaled
into stories.
 
Fifteen tomes
Seductive
Beckoning
And I am bound by lust
Of the written word
Bibliomaniac
On the prowl
Let loose
In a box of books.

I remember as a youngster reading the story of Midas and his lust for gold. I told my father that I thought it was a stupid story and that if King Midas really wanted to have something good, he should have somebody give him a hug or some money for the ice cream man when he came to his neighborhood. My declaration garnered one of my father’s rare smiles as he worked beneath the hood of his car. My dad assured me that some day, when I was older, it would make sense to me and Midas wouldn’t sound quite as stupid as it seemed right then. “Life experience,” he said, “will give you the way to see things you don’t see now.” That farsighted comment has risen in my memory more than once over my years as life’s mysteries, and experiences, have unfolded.

I’ve read that story many times over the years to see if it has become any less stupid now that I have so much more “life experience” under my belt.  But it was not until two days ago that the desire of Midas for his gold became a reality I could understand.

That was when I found a box sitting by my front door. It looked a lot worse for the wear it had received traversing the perils of the United States Postal Service. One end was mashed; the tape loose and floppy and I had to search hard to find what was left of the mailing label. I was perplexed. I had not purchased anything. Carefully, I took the fragile carton into the house and set it on a chair in the kitchen. With a sense of excited curiosity I pulled off the tape, lifted the flaps and removed the top layer of paper.  It was a box of books! The note from my friend Lauren said simply, “Enjoy the books.” I mentally promised her at that moment that I would indeed.

As I lifted each book from its cardboard nest, I ran my hands over the cover, looking at the title and the artwork and colors. I fanned open the pages and read either the flyleaf or back cover, marveling at the treasure at my fingertips. I laid them on the countertop separating them by genre. I inhaled the fragrance of the ink and paper, trying to decide which book I would read first. I was hopelessly lost for about a half hour until my husband walked in from his chores, asking if he had time to shower before supper. I could almost hear the shards of the world into which I had been transported tinkle sharply around me. My own stomach reminded me that it was hungry too. I showed Steve my bounty before putting all the books back into the box and starting our supper. 

Feeling a bit preoccupied during the meal with all those books niggling at my brain, I was probably not the best company.  But later in the evening as I picked up the box of books once again, I set about the task of trying to decide where I would put these new additions on my already burgeoning shelves. I was transported back again to that same magic place I’d been in before supper as I extricated the tomes into which I would lose myself at some point in the future. And then in a moment of blinding clarity, I understood the lust of Midas. His passion was gold, mine is books. I felt, as I sorted through the titles, that overweening desire to hoard to myself the richness that was now mine. It would have been nice to be able to call my father and tell him I finally “got it”—that I understand Midas and his motivation in a way I could not as a child. He might have remembered that long ago day as I did but chances are he would have thought I was in need of some rest. It is an interesting phenomenon when a piece of life comes full circle.


At age 10, Anne realized she was never going to get to be Miss America since reading a book was not an acceptable talent. So she went on to get a job and raise a family. Along the way, she fixed meals, picked up toys, helped with homework, and collected a drawer full of rejection slips for her “great American novel.” It was not all bad, however, since she ended up wallpapering a closet with them. She currently designs and creates greeting cards for her tiny company, The Frog Prints, LLC, and also works full-time as a Training Specialist. Anne is currently tethered to reality by a loving spouse, two dogs and the occasional hurricane that blows through Florida, although falling headlong and happily into a book is still her favorite “talent.” Contact Anne.