I suffer from prolexia –
An insidious disease:
When it comes to orthographic tasks,
My brain finds them a breeze.
This bothers me, as it may mean
That I am none too bright;
For Da Vinci, Einstein, Edison
Could barely read or write.
Dyslexic savants, it appears,
Prefer to think in pictures,
Leaving logocentric souls,
Like me, in mental strictures.
I learned all this; I hate to say –
Was it my loss or gain? –
By ploughing through (you guessed): a book
On reading and the brain.
It is a book you’ll not forget,
It’s called Proust and the Squid.
Its thesis may redraw me yet;
Revealing all that’s hid.