13. Collision

I remove the slender instrument

from its elegant box
so glossy, so white
so flagrantly expensive
I feel its weight and sense its power

as I cradle it in my hands

 

I'm excited at first by its magic

as it transforms my scrawls into tidy text 

excited by the endless choices 

font size, thickness, color, brightness

I play and play until I feel a frown coming 

something is missing from these perfect markings

something is missing from this gleaming glass

it turns out I need the imperfections

I need the messy letters

I need my barely legible scrawl 

to think straight, just to think straight 

and so I slink back to the store

return the frivolous instrument

and pick up a boring ballpoint

Much more appreciative now 

of all the left-handed smudges 

that spill upon my dreams.