Binging experiences for weeks and weeks

only leaves one detached from thought,

a set of frog’s eyes surfacing in the boiling pot

as new experiences cook us alive.

You add a fresh book to the shelf of every meal 

before you chew the last bite

or pay the check for a middling treat.

Even the events that annoy and scare you

earn a few centimeters of images and poetry

alongside the volumes that years have swollen. 

You might run your hands over these imaginary bindings

while you look for a narrative 

that matches the struggles of those around you

and hope that someone else will find 

what they need along this library of your life.