Disappearing

I crack the spine,

open it up, inhaling

pulp and ink,

trees pressed into pages,

strange symbols opening doors

to other worlds

where rivers flow differently,

tarragon and tea olive ride January breezes,

mountains tango beneath the trees,

trunks carrying the heavy bass line,

branches swaying, leaves playing

melodies of the mind,

dragons dance and treasures sing,

heroes conquer their fears,

and everything

is so goddamn real

that I hate to close this world

and trudge along

in this dismal imitation.