The Archives

The library is always bustling with students,
But never the archives.
The building is new and opened in July.
Yet I spend my days at work,
Surrounded by books many years older than I am.
Many have copyright dates from the 1800s,
Or the early 1900s.
It’s sad that no one really cares,
About books written well before their time.

No one does much talking here.
The silence can be overwhelming.
I consider it a privilege,
When it’s my turn to sit at the front desk.
Watching people walk by,
Getting on and off the elevator,
Keeps me entertained.
From my seat I can see the computer in the hall.
Its purpose is to look up call numbers,
But I can see what people really use it for,
Things like checking Facebook or MySpace.
I sit there hoping someone will stop to turn the handle,
And walk through the doors.
That rarely happens.

Most of my time is spent on projects,
Meaning I get to reorganize boxes of collections.
Many boxes are filled with correspondences,
To and from people I’ve never heard of.
Sometimes I get lucky and find more promising things.
I’ve found pictures of famous people, old magazines,
A judge’s gavel, a tobacco pipe, records,
And even old reels of movies.

The clock moves slower and slower,
As it gets closer to the time I leave.
It feels like the second hand takes an hour,
To make its complete revolution.
Sometimes I can get by with leaving,
Five minutes early.
Those are the days I look forward to.
©Rachel Ruppel 2006

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