Catch 22

You read me so well.
Even after all this time,
you know what my words mean.
I used to be your favorite book,
but now you only leaf thru my pages once in a while.
New chapters have been written
since the last time you read me cover to cover.

So, whenever you get the courage,
pull me off the shelf,
commit the new lines to memory
and say the old ones out loud,
the ones you still know by heart.

Let every verb and every vowel
linger on your tongue.
Taste every adjective and apostrophe
of my life.

If you turn to page nine thousand nine hundred and two,
you’ll see where I first loved you.
To me that’s more important
than what happened on page eleven thousand three hundred twenty something.

I’ve written you into every chapter.
The R colored ink in my pen never runs out.


What do you read? they ask.
Lots of things, I say.

About butterflies and suicide,
wizards and tigers and shipwrecks.

About Unfortunate Events
and foreign lands.

About traveling and eating,
loving God and letting go.

About romance and second chances
and third and fourth chances, too.

Of course, hobbits and elves,
Saints and Sinners and gun fights.

Of how to teach
and how society functions.

Of stories and memories,
heartbreaks and losses.

Of Mice and Men…
Anything, I read it all.

Another quote, another Sunday.

“The reason death sticks so closely to life isn’t biological necessity – it’s envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over the oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud.”

-Yann Martel, Life of Pi