Sunday and Reading
Apart from putting dinner on
You don’t need to do anything
You’re content with your book
Nothing can bring you out of it
Feeling guilty and delicious
Imagine a whole life like that
And not giving a bugger for anything
But the book you’re with
Rarer than you want to be
Occasional as real Sunday lunch
With perfect Yorkshire puddings
The book must be good and big
It’s got to be trustworthy and fat
That’s the Blockbuster business
Like the meat and potatoes of a
Sunday roast and knowing
You don’t need to go anywhere
Just deeper into pages
When the book stops being there
And it’s just
A cloud of happening
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