Like colorful buildings,
stacked in neat rows on a wooden shelf.
Words embedded onto the sides,
barely legible, but nonetheless,
still visible to the searching eye.
Searching for a world
within the paper covers.
And every once and awhile, a loose structure
will tilt too far to one side,
and it will fall against another beside it,
knocking over many in row,
until the entire shelf is tilted.
The colors sliding everywhere,
the pages crinkled.
As if in a tiny city, cupped in the frame of the shelf,
Buildings falling, words spilt on the floor.