How is it that you read

Lady Chatterly’s Lover,

And come away simply aroused by a passionate affair?

That you are acquainted with

The Diary of Anne Frank,

And note only the introspections of a young girl becoming familiar with her body?

That you have knowledge of 

Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret,

And are moved merely by the description of menses?

That you read

Huckleberry Finn,

And place your focus on one foul word?

That you study Orwell and are stunned only by illustrations of suffering?

Perhaps you, as Alice, drank a vile potion?

Copyright 2020.   L.L. Shelton.