A pen between my fingers
index finger and thumb
Serves as a brain when my mind is far away
Taking a pen out of my hand is like
unplugging earphones to an iPod
The music stops
I stop
I look around
I read but I think of other things while I read
I stare
I look at and not into
And around and not through
Avoiding questions
not because I am reticent
But because I am gone
Even if this pen sits in the palm of my
hand, motionless
It still makes me think.
It is as if knowing that this plastic tool
can write, makes me able to think
It is writing without writing
Even when they tell us to put our pens
down and listen, I still hold it.
I roll it around in my hand
And let the tip speck my thumb blue
I prefer blue
Blue because it is not black
black says too much and too little
And black is always
And never
And nothing in between