Bookworm


Books and paper.
That's what I'm talking about.
Books
And
Paper….
How can you get the thrill
of turning that page
When there's no page to turn?
Nowhere to burn
The passion of the moment of the
Action of the suspense
Of the thought
That's right around the corner
On the
Very
NEXT
Page.
Hold that thought,
Turn the page
Smell the burning suspense
Soak through the ink
Makes you think
Don't BLINK
Or you'll
MISS IT!
There….
Ahhh…..
Smell the
Sweet Release of
Reunion….
Just knew you'd
Continue that thought.
Fingers caress, stroke,
Lingerly ginger the mind.
Thumb the edges
Flick, flip, hold, and
TURN the
Words upon words
Thought after thought.
Hands hold, rub, absently
Trace down the spine
of the story,
Tease words into meaning
more than the paper
and ink on the page--
so much more than mere
Books and paper.
That's what I'm talking about.
Slipping pieces of ribbon,
Cloth, softly frayed yarn
Snuggled into the crack
To mark where you left off—
Sticking out at you,
Beckoning you to
Return and reveal
And unravel the….

What was I saying again?
Can your "Kindle" do that?
Your "e-books," your "ipod," your
Whatever the
Doohickie-at-the-moment
Is….
all the rage now these days.
It's
Not
Quite
The
Same….
Clicking, scrolling,
Pushing
buttons, bars, screens--
no swish of pages,
no sense of, smell of
printed genius,
no oils mixed with
fingerprinted fantasy,
fiber-mixed –with-vision-
mixed-with-breath withheld
years of dried
tear-stained print,
stories well-spent
in the beds (and the minds) of others,
or, if you prefer,
sprawled out on the lawn under a tree.
Not the same at all,
Quite handy, though,
Fits in my pocket, purse,
Or slips
tucked in my bra—
Can't do that with a book…
Stay up late and read by the glow
Of the tiny, little screen.
No smell,
No sound,
No bookmarks
No dog-ears,
Just smudges on the screen,
Ok, that's annoying.
Rub it out, go ahead,
Round and round, up and down
There…much better…
Beep.
Beep.
Blinking screen,
Makes me blink—huh?
Wait!
Oh man, not now!
Right at the best part!!
Battery's dead…
Where's my charger….
Rummage blindly around
Under the bed, in the dark.
Hmmm, what's this--
Grab a familiar
brokeback spine,
Read a dozen times,
Right here, waiting for me,
Like an old friend.
Go ahead, pick it up.
See?
Right where you left off….
Just books.
And paper.
Now, that's what I'm talking about….

Eliza Jane Farley Gomez
April 6, 2010
Copyright ©2010 by Eliza Jane Farley Gomez

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OK, y'all have been kind enough to "hear me out"& n stuff, so let me know whatcha think, if I've rattled yer cage, voiced a shared thought or concern, or if you're gonna attain Enlightenment upon reading these DEEP THOUGHTS, or if ya think I'm just plumb WACKO--but please be decent in your expression of your sentiments, there's no need to sling mud, unless we're in POTTERY CLASS or at the BEACH! Thanks for reading n stuff...Laters!

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