*

i try hard, but not hard enough, not to skip to the end of the page/paragraph/scene. to the part where you know the juice is gonna be. its like, i get so excited about what's gonna happen, it's building up and higher, and the next few sentences are probably where the author is really at one's most poignant, but my eyes just
-jump-
to the last sentence, to the sigh.
then i go back up again,
a bit higher then where i left off
but of course you can never get back the initial exhilaration.

surprising, since i can leave christmas presents under the tree with nary a shake for the full length of advent, and i've often left envelopes unopened for hours or sometimes days to savor the slice of the knife through the paper and the ensuing read. but once the reading begins*