I Stop Reading
the imagery is there
story line as blah as wallpaper paste
wallpaper paste that has dripped on the floor
been stepped on by a size nine Nike tennis shoe
oozing off the bottom of it now
I dive in for another peek
there must be more
the protagonist has to be a hero or a villain
we have his name, colors and attitudes
nothing stands out;
I, the reader, do not know whether to cheer or loathe him
the feelings that prance all over most stories are dormant.
lying in an old brown suitcase in my mind’s attic
uncaring, unconcerned, unmoved by this excuse for a tale
I stop reading
not wanting to waste
one more drop of time
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