Booked Read Online Free Page B

washing your head. Ever.

You’re not really into baseball
    but you give the book a chance
    for obvious reasons, plus
    you need to earn some minutes.

All the Broken Pieces
    is about war
    but told
    by a boy
    your age
    who can’t seem
    to find peace
    after a bomb
    blows
    his village
    and his brother
    to pieces.
    Then a soldier
    takes him
    to America
    where he’s adopted and
    just about to find out
    if he’s made
    the baseball team
    on page 54
    which means
    you have amassed
    four hours
    and thirty minutes
    of nonstop
    TV.
    Â 
    Click.

The Next Day
    After a night
    of channel surfing
    and back-to-back
    reruns
    of
Star Trek,
    the morning sun
    rushes in
    courtesy of the nurse
    raising the blinds.
    Â 
    You eat gooey
    fruit cocktail
    and just before
    you power up
    your tablet,
    The Mac
    strolls in
    with his bowling bag,
    and duffel,
    sporting a blue and white hoodie
    that reads
    putyour FACE ina BOOK.

Conversation with The Mac
    I brought you a gift,
he says, handing
    you a box wrapped in gift paper.
    The dragonfly box?
    Â 
    Well, it is a box,
he says,
    plopping himself down
    in the chair.
    Â 
    Thanks, Mr. Mac, you say, opening
    the greasy, white cardboard box.
    Mr. Mac, this is
KFC!
    Â 
    Yep, sure is. Bought you
    a three-piece
    chicken meal and a biscuit,
he says.
    Â 
    Uh, thanks, but I can’t really eat
    that kind of stuff yet, Mr. Mac.
    Good, ’cause there’s only
    Â 
    one piece left. Give it here.
    I don’t know if I’m more hungry
    or tired, Nick.
    Â 
    . . .
    I just walked from the bowling alley.
    And, it was a terrible walk, ’cause I lost.
    Â 
    Why didn’t you drive?
    Lucky finally died. Had it for thirteen years.
    Guess your luck ran out, Mr. Mac.
    Â 
    If I wasn’t so tired, I’d laugh at that.
    Did you get the book?
    Yep, I’m reading it.
    Â 
    What page are you on?
    Fifty-four.
    Nice! Any thoughts?
    Â 
    Yeah, it’s all poetry.
    And?
    It’s okay.
    Â 
    So why’re you reading it, if it’s just okay?
    . . .
    You’re reading it because April Farrow
    Â 
    told you to read it,
he says, and
    laughs so loud,
    the person in the room
    Â 
    behind you bangs on the wall.
    So what do you think
    of the main character, Matt Pin?
    Â 
    I kinda feel bad for him,
    getting picked on—I can relate.
    Getting picked on by whom?
The Mac interrupts.
    Â 
    His classmates.
    They call him names
    like
Frogface
    Â 
    and
Matt-the-Rat
and
    Rice-Paddy
and—
    Odd names to call someone, dontcha think, Nick?
    Â 
    He’s from Vietnam,
    so the kids treat him different.
    They’re prejudiced, I guess.
    Â 
    Can’t wait to find out what he does,
    â€™cause right now he just does nothing.
    What would you do, Nick?
    Â 
    I’d probably stand up for myself.
    And then The Mac stops talking and
    drifts off, staring out your window
    Â 
    and you’re left
    wide awake, thinking of
    all your broken pieces.

Read Aloud
    When he wakes up
    ten minutes later
    The Mac
    whips out
    his copy,
    plops down
    in the vinyl chair
    at the foot
    of your bed,
    kicks off
    his white high-tops,
    props both legs up,
    yawns louder
    than an elephant seal,
    stretches,
    then proceeds
    to read
    to you
    like you’re in kindergarten
    and it’s story time.

He sounds
    like he’s on the mike,
    rapping.
    His flow is sick.
    Â 
    He pops his shoulders.
    Bobs his head.
    All while reading.
    Â 
    You listen.
    You laugh.
    You follow along.
    Â 
    Didn’t think
    you were gonna
    like this
    Â 
    book.
    Two hours later,
    when The Mac lands
    Â 
    on the final page,
    the doctors and nurses
    who’ve lingered
    Â 
    and listened, and who
    crowd your room,
    give The Mac
    Â 
    a standing ovation.

Texts to April
    Hey April,
    I finished
    the book.
    Â 
    The beginning
    was a little slow
    but the ending was
    Â 
    tight.
    The poems
    were cool.
    Â 
    The best ones were
    like bombs,
    and when all the right words
    Â 
    came together
    it was like an