so, i asked a couple of friends for titles of art pieces (any kind: paintings, music, poetry, whatever...) that don't exist. wrote them down and am trying to use them as inspiration for some new poems. not sure i'll use every single one, but i surprised myself with which one provided the first bit of inspiration. seriously surprised.
thanks to the office depot website, by the way, for helping me remember exactly what all types of office paraphernalia exists... i work in one, of course, but once i began writing, i was drawing a blank after the first two items... makes you realize how little we actually pay attention to the unimportant things, huh?
Work song 43
Bert has come to a decision:
he is a paper clip.
First, the obvious:
he holds this place together.
He’s bigger than he looks.
If left in one place long enough, he leaves an impression.
Everything about him speaks of pressure and convenience.
He might have been the stapler at one point
but permanence is no longer his number one priority.
Flexibility is his new keyword,
which is why he is also not the ruler,
pushpins, binder clips, or glue stick.
He left his tendency toward scissoring
in the top drawer after realizing each cut
is an eternity of decisions in the making.
The coffee pot is too comforting.
The eraser admits mistakes.
He’s no longer transparent, so not the scotch tape,
and he’s neither supportive, nor lazy enough to be the dispenser.
Once, he was a time clock,
considered becoming a paper shredder,
and for an entire month he did his best imitation
of post-it notes.
No more, though. He’s accepted this paper clip life,
steel twisting unto itself, thought of as clever,
but not ingenious.
Tonight, he’ll come home, following the pens
and pencils of the world. He’ll wrap one thin arm
across your photocopied shoulders and you might
love him for all the things he’s not.
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