ode to an open notebook and a g2 pen

the Pen rests diagonally against the blank yellowed Page (they’re always blank, always Lineless). it seems ready to be held, used, handled, ran dry. an Author’s Friend. the paper is a more tentative Companion. always there, always necessary, but taunting.  the paper teases, a seductive Friend With Benefits. the paper makes an Author fall in love, run their hands up and down the smooth page, lift the trembling pen, and then scRATCH scRIBBLE.

Crumple. Discard.

over and over, a neverending cycle. an Author gets tired, but they attempt to push on and on past the tired over the sleepiness forcing eyes open the words blur theyruntogetherandbecomeone vwls get dropped but that doesn’t matter until finally finally finally the pen falls from an Author’s hand and drops

drops

drops

to the floor.

the pen is a better friend than the page. it waits patiently to be remembered. the page laughs and it sounds like a fluttering piece of paper.

and an Author shoots up blearily, grabs another pen from the waiting line, like soldiers ready to accept their fate, and grabs a page. and scRATCH scRIBBLE

flourish. and it’s Done.