Why would I think to move
or even leave
it’s warm in here I’ve got
so much more to read
I’ve tried outside
it doesn’t bring
the view
I get from this seat
people are quiet here
and my only fear
is someone taking
what I need
when I’m hungry
I look up a recipe
when I’m lonely
I take a biography
I feel happy
with photography
and philosophy brings
me relief
at night my mind grows a garden
and I wake up with the knowledge
while my ignorance
is still talking in its sleep
I dress with anticipation
that I’ll once again
feel that sensation
between warm sheets of paper and ink
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