Rev's Ranch-West

I put my books in the refrigerator because I love the feeling of the cold pages.
Literary classics go in the vegetable drawer and poetry in with the fruits.
Periodicals and almanacs in the meat section.
I place the best, most favorite reads in the freezer. They stack well between the television dinners and prop up the frozen chicken nicely.
I put essays and science journals next to the water, and religious texts next to the beer.
People often ask, “What about those gaudy melodramatic books that inspire todays reader? Where’s my damn Harry Potter, my damn Twilights, my damn Danielle Steele and my fucking Jon Grishams?” I tell them to look behind salsa and cream cheeses; they are top shelf since they are all hardcover.
I separate bagels with Moleskine journals, and the milk is encompassed with Greek literature.
Yes, the fridge is full of food and books. I keep the day’s newspaper hung up by magnets on the outside; front page up top, sports at the bottom, funnies on the side of the fridge.
Food and word. A well balanced meal.
Wanted: A new fridge. I’m running out of space. I’m having to resort to putting my books on shelves. It’s very lukewarm there, you know.