joining the neighborhood book club

i join

the neighborhood book club,

to get a little

intelligent

talk into my life,

tired of talking to my

unresponsive

cat

and goldfish.

i need more.

it's a circle of women,

that make up

the book club,

most in their 60's,

unmarried

and happy about it,

and one

man

with a beard,

that he continually strokes.

everyone

brings a plate of food,

or cookies.

i bring my upside down

pineapple

cake surprise, that i

made from a recipe

i found behind the refrigerator

when the hose

broke

last July.

i suggest that we read

The Red Comet for next week,

the biography

of Sylvia Plath,

which makes

everyone laugh, and the man

to say out loud.

i'm not reading that crap.

the leader calms

everyone down

and says, okay, did we all

finish the last

Harry Potter book, or not?

let's start with  that.