This is my desk pencil
ever handy, ever ready
regularly sharpened to tally and rally up numbers
always next to another on my desk
This is my on-the-go pencil
often twisted on it's side
to get instant thoughts on a napkin
tucked in my purse
making marks on my wallet
This is my fancy schmancy pencil
lead encased in a hefty shell shaft
weighted
forever pointed with a slight turn of the fingers
i like it's fine line
This is my let's write for hours pencil
that pals along with a battery operated sharpener
that affords me freedom to roam
pressing onto paper
thoughts of an obsessive thinker
it's very talented. it can write about many things.
It roams over the page sometimes in a little doodle fit
other times gliding into the next thought
It loves to go off the line, or just above it
ignoring the straight and predictable path that somebody made for it
no, this is not the only way
It loves to feel the invention of a new word under it's lead, just for the fun of it.
It's anti-eraser, preferring to adore every stroke, even cross-outs
It sings a smooth song like well-filed nails on a satin blanket...and I do love that.
It's just like this black one and those red ones and that gray one, all huddled together
ready to play, invent, protest, pretend.
This is my rebel pencil, and write it must.
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