Three Deep

The library keeps its news on a cork board by the stairs. Across the top someone has lettered ///enabling.present.clocks in marker, the three words and their dots, and under that the notes are pinned three deep. The oldest have gone soft and brown. The newest curl away from their pins.

Lightning bugs are protein, say what you like. Come and sit on the stairs at dusk first. Ladder wanted. Ladder returned, thank you. Dog found, answers to a whistle.

Three cards are pinned over the rest, in three hands. Far bench: Mireya has a jar. Come and see it. Roof, before the grackles go: two hands wanted at the antenna. A person to sit with a needle from an hour before dusk, the laundromat east of the highway, back room, ask for A.

A black cable is stapled up the wall beside the board, a staple to a stair. You lay a hand on it. It is warm. It runs both ways, up to the roof garden and down past the loading dock to a ladder most people never see.