The Book About You

The book that tells about you slumps in the library
Somewhere in the medical section. It is vague at first
but then detailed: you are hopeless and not even interesting.
Cases like yours routine through hospitals, especially
in slum districts. By the end of the book, you are dead
one-third of the time but live a useful life
occasionally if treated early. One patient
in Calcutta lived fifteen years. Softly you close
the book and push back. You walk past the travel section
and the mysteries and romances. At the door you turn for a glance:
they have established a new shelf- pay books. The librarian
is watching you. You spread your hands, go out
the quiet door, and stand there enjoying the sun.
There are days like this for everyone. Somebody else
Will put the book back. Strangely- one of the symptoms?-
you feel like singing.

-William Stafford