A girl is standing before her teachers, proudly reading what she has written
The book I am writing is full of blank pages.
In the airport I realize I forgot to pack a book for the trip. What will I read on the beach?
Newspaper headlines report less than 3 minutes till hitting the ground.
“You have a poetic temperament,” my brother tells me. “Perhaps too much so.”
Not to mention the two pocketbooks I find hidden within a black leather case.
And the little manual typewriter that pops out of my cousin’s cell phone. Could someone write a book using that?
The book on CD I’m listening to distracts me and I get onto the wrong road driving in the wrong direction.
Now my brother’s sitting at my desk writing with my good gel pen
Writing the book I’ve known I’ve had in me all these years.