Sitting at my desk
electronically checking books in — discharging, as we say
— when yours is sifted from the pile and crosses over my desk,
drops into my hands, positions itself at a slight angle
so my wand can swipe its newly affixed barcode

so I swipe. discharge
ready to be taken, charged, electric.

All I feel now is worthlessness, resentment
and self pity. Immediately, I think I can say
I knew you then, which is an uglier sentiment
than sour envy : gloating through association
like you’re some kind of a Kardashian.