It’s only a book that tempts me
to ignore the dishes in the sink, the laundry in the basket, the litterbox,
the papers waiting to be graded.
It’s only a book that tempts me
to stay up and read the last half (when it’s already midnight)
and I have to go to work tomorrow.
It’s only a book, and when I read it, I hear nothing, am aware of nothing else in the universe, including
alarm clocks, phone calls, microwave timer buzzers, the purring cat in my lap who
prickles my leg as she makes bread against my thigh.
It’s only a book that calls me
into another’s life, another world, another reality, another experience of someone else’s imagination.
It’s only a book. I’m hooked.
Dirtdaubber Wasp 