Alive. In my own story.

I'm reading books. Novels. Of fabricated stories. I enter these stories. And get carried away. Into make-believe worlds. Where I'm allowed to make up my own stories. So cunning. So beautiful. So amorous. Intended. As a break from real life. When suddenly. I realize. That the unreal has become real. Because here I am. Alive. And conscious. In my own story. --Jim Broede