Book Life

Am I sentient,

Sapient,

Or

Some other form of sensitive life

Yet to be labeled.

I live a rather reclusive life,

Being invited out to a tabletop

Or bedtime lounging,

And even,

At times,

Brought along as

A vacation read.

There have been times,

However,

When I’ve been abused.

  Yes,

It happens to the best of us,

Even with cover sleeves,

Protection bookshelves,

Even occasionally slid into

Glass-door cabinets.

I’ve had my ears pierced with paper clips,

Layers of skin inked for study,

And extremities bent over and under out of shape,

All for the sake of a bookmark,

While some of my friends

I see getting fancy Barnes & Noble

Brass,

Silver,

 And inlaid markers.

Not fair

You know?

But…

Hey, no real complaints.

Just a few more years

And I’ll be on the auction block

At Christie’s.

Old, autographed copies

Are big business today,

And once ownership changes,

Those deep pockets provide

Cushioned surroundings.

Can’t wait for that day,

When I’ll move into

A hermetically sealed,

Temperature controlled

Retirement.

Not bad for an old, decaying book, eh?