Sunday, April 2, 2017

Drunk









A drunk man came to me at the front desk of the library. How did I know he was drunk? He kept telling me. "I'm sorry. I'm really drunk. I probably shouldn't drink so much." He was friendly though, and he had lots of library business to transact. He talked a lot. He spoke highly of the healing properties of echinacea. "Have you ever tried echinacea?" He asked.

"I used to put it under my tongue when I got a cold." I replied


"Cool." He said. "I'm sorry. I'm drunk. Am I asking too many questions?"


"No."


He wondered if I had any inspirational books I could recommend. Ones I liked and that we had checked in. He didn't want anything we didn't have now. I wrote down for him the call numbers of some books of poetry by Mary Oliver. I'm not sure how inspirational they are, but thought it best to try and keep him busy in the library and away from his car for awhile.


He went off in search of the books and came by a little later with them to check out. "I'm drunk. Do I seem really drunk to you?"


"Well, it probably wouldn't be that bad if you didn't keep telling me how drunk you are." I replied.


"Right." He said. "Gotta stop talking about being drunk."


And then he tottered off, barely wobbling.










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