The book folds to reveal
The real world,
Beneath my crouched knees

Untied sneakers sprawled
All over the floor, muddy.

There is a silent joy in
Watching others consume
Realities all too
Different,
And all too
Common to
Yours—"unreal,"
Ethereal.

Perhaps all too so.

For the past two days
I've caught the people
Crouching beside me
Sniffling.