The dog didn’t eat my homework
because I am not a child
but the dog ate my book from the library
– or so I told them at the Greenpoint Library.

“The dog ate the book.
Really destroyed it.
How much do I owe?”

I don’t carry a wallet
because I am not a salaryman
but I pulled at my stack of bills
to show I was serious about paying my dues
– and also that I’m loaded
(if only with singles).

The librarian shook her head.
“We don’t really do that here.”

“The book isn’t much of a book anymore,” I said,
“you’re out a book. It’s my fault.” I didn’t rat out the dog.
“How do you get the book back?
Should I buy it for you?”

“You can make a donation,” responded the librarian,
“or return the book and let us assess the damage.
If you don’t return it, you may have to pay for it!”

I smiled. They did away with fines a few years back.
This really ain’t your auntie’s library anymore.

“Things have really changed at the library
since I was a kid, ma’am.”
“I’m actually in the process of transitioning,”
said the librarian,
“I prefer to be identified as Master.”
“Master?”
“I’m transitioning to the one percent.”
“From a librarian?” I asked, “that must be quite a surgery.”
“I’ll be able to afford it once I’m in the one percent.
I figure it’s the surest way out of this poem,” zey said.

It did seem like the poem itself had transitioned away from its origins
into something somewhat different
for I am not a one-trick pony
but a two-trick pony
who can switch things up occasionally
and show how growth in the Brooklyn library system
can be reflected as growth
in other systems entirely.

Does the analogy make me
in fact
a one-trick pony again?
At least I’m not a child salaryman
who had to pay
to replace a book
at the Greenpoint Library.