Bus ticket folded in my coat pocket
Morning sun hits the reference shelves
You trim dead leaves with quiet precision
Dewey decimals bloom by your fingers
Glass walls hold the heat while winter bites
Soil turns dark beneath the sodium lights
You grow tomatoes where the archives sleep
I shoot film of promises we keep
Camera strap digs deep in my collarbone
Fluorescent buzz shakes the microfiche
You mist the sprouts from a blue glass bottle
Water beads on your rough working knuckles
Glass walls hold the heat while winter bites
Soil turns dark beneath the sodium lights
You grow tomatoes where the archives sleep
I shoot film of promises we keep
Roll of Portra loaded, thirty-six frames
Catalog drawers stuck with seasonal grime
You stake the vines with split bamboo markers
Roots drink deep in the climate-controlled time
Glass walls hold the heat while winter bites
Soil turns dark beneath the sodium lights
You grow tomatoes where the archives sleep
I shoot film of promises we keep
Flash pops once in the dim reading room
Seedlings lean toward the artificial glow
Negative captures what the eye misses
Green persists where the paper turns slow
Last bus leaves from the depot at midnight
You wipe soil from your palms on your jeans
I frame the greenhouse through the basement window
Two rootless things learning what rooted means
Glass walls hold the heat while winter bites
Soil turns dark beneath the sodium lights
You grow tomatoes where the archives sleep
I shoot film of promises we keep
Glass and soil — the only language we speak
Shutter closes on the final frame
Roots hold tight in the dark and deep
