At the top of the hill in the forest at night we are standing face to face as the moon wavers behind a small cloud and when I say no to the baby he pulls a gun and shoots me in the stomach.
I crisscross the stacks / searching for my mother / and father. The librarian / tells me they boarded / the other plane / that already took off. / This library is an airplane / I do not want to be on / but the doors are locked / and in fact / the librarian states, / we too have taken off. /