The casual reader

Call it what you want,
but that's what you're doing.
Call it what you want as you pull
back the covers, open it up,
start teasing, flipping each
of the leaves with spit-moistened finger,
rolling it all the way back, baring
each new page, deeper and deeper
in, running your eyes
over every jot and tittle
and next thing you know you're
diving into it, cleaving into,
unto, lost in the story, you crack
that book's SPINE but still
not satisfied! Voraciously
devouring every page
after page after PAGE, until GASP
Ahh - crisis, resolution, denouement,

And you leave
that book behind,
crumpled, probably, creased,
and dog-eared I shouldn't be surprised, stained
too I bet, you slob! - as you walk away,
don't lie

and say you didn't know how
it would end.