After supper I returned to 
my reading book   I had 
reached page one hundred
and forty   two hundred and twenty
more to go I had been thinking that 
evening   as we spoke
early at dinner with a couple of young
people   of the dense improbable
life of that book in which I had become so comfortable
the characters were now my troubled companions
I knew them   understood I could
reenter these lives without loss
so firm my habitation   I scanned the shelves
some books so dear to me   I had missed them
leaned forward to take the work into
my hands   I took a couple of deep breaths
thought about the acceleration of days
yes   I could reenter them but…
No   how could I desert that other whole life
those others in their city basements
Abandonment   How could I have allowed myself
even thought of a half hour’s distraction
when life had pages   or decades to go
so much was about to happen to people
I already knew and nearly loved