The previous post about reading a good book reminded me of a poem I wrote back in 2003.
The Reader
It’s so easy for me
to be lost in a book,
to pull on a novel character
like a change of clothes,
new and refreshing;
No matter how sad
their life may be,
I’m not me.
When I close
the book
I’m an awakened
sleepwalker:
I am placed
in my life
like a colorform
or a paperdoll;
as if I am teetering
on the edge of a cliff
and dare not move
until I touch
the harsh reality
of the world around me
and feel sure it can hold
the uncertainty of myself—
Lock me once again
into my own life.
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