JunePoWriMo 5

Unread books placed carefully in boxes 
moved and removed from house to house so long
I forget who I thought I would be when
these books transformed from pages on a shelf
to synapses renewed from consciousness
to consciousness proving books are magic
are words meant only to be potential
dear reader all apologies are due
I still do not know who you were back then
thumbing recklessly through the alphabet
knowing unfixed syntax is what is left
between thought & expression lies a lifetime
unloose the doorjambs from their enjambment
I is an other book I never rent