Irrational exuberance at respite from reading...

(on a rainy May thirteenth

two thousand and twenty five)

as a balm against ennui

becoming engrossed, immersed,

and lost in space of orrery

regarding the universe created courtesy

Nora Roberts well crafted novel Montana Sky

perusing said realistic fiction

as if inebriated

with one hundred proof liquor

experiencing drunken stupor

merely from evocatively written story

and subsequently

envying such craftsmanship

incorporating her gushing wellspring

plentifully populated

with seat of the pants suspense

interwoven with the tapestry

of love and delight

in the valley of dark shadows

where the edge of night

(awash with creatures

conjured from an overactive imagination)

creeps into the realm

bordered by outer limits of the twilight zone

buzzfeeding insatiable

appetite for consumption

of one bookworm hellbent

on appeasing his voracious hunger

mental comfort analogous

to buffet of food omnipresent

for a famished homeless person,

which unfortunate soul

could be yours truly linkedin

to a lifetime of poor planning

and lack of sticktoitiveness

toward reasonable goals

abandoning ambition ousted

with faith no more

devoid of self confidence

by long entrenched apathy

taking root kudzu like way back

during blissful boyhood,

when yours truly

deferred to those

who begat him as his boatswain de jure

and panicking

when he clocked eighteen years

around the nearest star

totally unable and unready

to be master of his domain

witnessed courtesy

as he hopscotched

from one college to another

without rhyme nor reason

and giving up on himself

before testing his short lived

quizzical excitement pursuing

for example setting sights

on bachelor of science degree

at Temple University

as a Geology major

disbelieving I possessed the smarts

to comprehend chemistry or physics,

and rather than applying

figurative button nose to grindstone

yours truly (me) impulsively withdrew

repeated the above refrain

approximately half a dozen times,

and only recently discovering

vis a vis unbridled joy

imbibing countless author's claim to fame

boosting his literacy,

which plunge into

webbed wide world of imagination

did ensure temporary alleviation of learning

not so much to impress anybody,

but more so engaged

in near futile attempt

to appease hungry bibliophile

christened Matthew Scott Harris,

I simultaneously sought escape

from cares and concerns

of an uncertain world

where the great unknown

akin to a vast dangerfield*

peopled with brutish,

nasty and short imps of the pervert

unsuspecting poe whet tick justice

awaiting within pit and the pendulum.

* "Dangerfield" is a surname of Norman origin, meaning "settlement of danger" or "village of danger". It is a habitational name, meaning it originated from a place name in northern France. The name combines the Old Norse personal name "Ásgeirr" (from "áss" meaning god and "geirr" meaning spear) with the Old French "ville" meaning settlement or village. The "d" in "Dangerfield" is a fused preposition meaning "of" or "from."