A book’s like death.

Sneaks up on you and

Bang!

The old you’s gone forever.

But you died slow,

page by page,

and a new you,

hidden,

is uncovered,

chapter by chapter,

slowly,

like the slow slide in the agonized contractions

down from your momma’s womb

into that bright room,

the air a splash of freezing water

into your brand new baby face.

A good book

is like the new girl friend

when you’re fifteen

and your old girl friend

left you flat for some guy named Larry.

Doesn’t matter why.

Just that she’s gone

and this new smile and curls comes along

and the feel of her skin against the skin of your arm

and how her lips feel on your lips,

so sure…

and it’s all new now,

different,

like whoever held your hand before

doesn’t matter any more.

This new her,

how her fingers hold you ever so lightly,

but now, sometimes,

this time,

so firmly….

Now, that’s a good book.

But,

the best book….

The best book is the glorious

first penetration of your bulging penis

or your virgin vagina

and

My God!

When the orgasm’s over,

come and gone

and you lay there knowing for sure

you’ll never be the same again

and you zip up your zipper

or pull up your panties

and float home

to a world

where you’ve never been before

and you open the door,

(How’d I get this key?)

into a place you’ve never seen before….

Now, children….

That’s the best book!