The Book That Read Me

I opened a book to start reading and see
The book looked right back and began reading me.

It flipped through my thoughts, like you flip past a page.
It knew of my hobbies, my weight, and my age.

It knew all my problems and what made me tick.
“You worry ‘bout nothing,” it said. “That’s your shtick.”

“You should play backgammon, checkers, and chess;
A crossword or two for a touch of finesse.”

It kept going like that for a while, and then
It went on still longer like a clucking hen.

“Jeepers” I thought, “This book sure is rude.”
Not that it’s wrong, but too much attitude!

I closed the book fast; put it back on the shelf.
Perhaps I will just write something myself.