book

How can a purple rectangular prism
Contin an entire world
And an entire population of people
It’s small enough to hold in my hand
And light enough to toss
But it contains a world
I open it
How can a soft sheet 
Of dired tree pulp
Covered with ink-black symbols
Let me into a world 
In which I don’t exist 
But fictional characters do
I don’t know the answer to any of this
But at least I think of the questions