I’m officially in a book funk.
I mean I’m reading,
I always read,
it’s what I do,
it’s just that,
I’m not being absorbed by anything.
I have been reading Somerset Maugham’s,
Creatures of Circumstance,
I got it out of the library.
A series of fabulous short stories,
just right for a bus ride to work,
smart, engaging but, short,
they are short stories, after all.
I need something meaty.
Not broccoli which I hate but,
it’s good for me!
Broccoli reading is,
a book I know I should read,
one that would expand my horizons,
teach me something,
or that I could brag I got through,
War and Peace, Ulysses, Moby Dick,
Philip Roth, which I loathed but read,
several pounds of broccoli.
I don’t want to read cotton candy either,
sweet, filling but,
bad for your teeth.
Janet Evanovich, Sophie Kinsella,
that kind of stuff,
it takes you for a ride,
in a familiar and enjoyable locale,
that’s the sugar,
ultimately you want something different,
a Butch cannot live on sugar alone,
you need to maintain,
your bones, muscles, grey matter.
I am longing for meat,
John Irving, Sarah Waters,
different cuts but,
Complex and delicious,
Books that take you in,
make you laugh,
make you cry,
make you think,
leave you satisfied and filled.
The World According to Garp,
All The King’s Men,
Not too big not too small,
I suppose the protein could be,
beans, lentils, eggs,
Aquamarine, Biting the Apple, Coffee Will Make you Black,
books I read and loved this year,
all lean vegetable protein,
I don’t know if this is making any sense to any of you.
Perhaps someone could suggest something.
But, ultimately reading,
like life is a solitary journey.