Writer

A person, for you, is a book.

Impossible to categorize,

it veers from non-sense verse

to the most tedious of novels

and back

in just a breath.

And the book ends, the book ends.

And what makes the person more real,

then,

than a book,

is just that you cannot re-read

one chapter, one sentence, one word.

You must re-write him,

her,

and you cannot.

This inability is the source

of everything you have to say.