Manifesto: Read I Can

 

Read I Can

 

I am Sam / and I can read I can

I read books / here or there / I read books / anywhere

I read them with my spouse / I read them in our house

I read them under covers / with a flashlight / away from mothers

I read them at the table / and with Mable / underneath the stairs

I read them on a train! And in coach, on a plane! Behind the driver's seat, while passing along our street.

I love them in a shipping box.
I love them cozy on a yacht.
I love them in my house.
I love them spread out on the couch.
I love them here,
and also there.
I love to have them everywhere.

I read them in the rain / on a pirate's boat / sailing off to Spain

I read them in a tree / where all my neighbors / let me be

I read them at Sunday church and Monday class and, not least but last, Friday's barstool perch.

I read them under glass / I read them smart and crass / I read them full of fluff / and jammed under a pile of stuff

I love them here.
I love them there.
I love to read those book
anywhere.

But I will not read / not me, not Sam / an e-book on a reader when

I cannot see it on my phone / and cannot see it at another's home

Nor pass it to my laptop tablet console applet

I cannot stand / not me, not Sam / to buy a book / in a nook / that will only work / until my reader gets canned.

Or they take it back.

Or they alter little facts.

Or they switch it off.

Or they add on upgrade costs.

So I read my book / with paper, leather, and back-cover hook / because I can, without a nook without a screen without a kindle and without fear those proprietary words will 

someday vanish into air.