it was an old book
borrowed many, many times
it’s pages curled at the corners
as if it was shrinking away from the touches
of those nosey readers
greedy to scan it’s many lines.
as i was reading
i turned the page
and there i found a wispy piece of hair
it was not mine.
i wondered whose head it belonged to;
to what region of the follicle;
on what district of the scalp
it resided in.
i swept the hair away
onto the dusty floor
and continued reading
never thinking about it once more.