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Someone scratches his head and it seems to cause an itching epidemic.
Everywhere I turn, people are itching and scratching and tickling away at invisible creatures

I suddenly become extremely aware of the smell of my shampoo.
The one that smells like green tea but not the boring green tea;
The lemon flavored green tea.

I don’t know.
I never was much of a tea-drinker anyway.

The click of a pen;
The turn of a page.
A pretty girl furiously erases words from her paper.
I guess she made a mistake.

It’s funny how, if you write with a pencil, you can erase any blunder, any attempted thought, despite how grave the miscalculation may be.
But, when we use a pen,
Our mistakes stay.
Fallible human errors, scratched into paper for eternity,
Lying blissfully unaffected by whether or not we aspire to correct them.

Well, I made a mistake.
It was with a pen.

I wish I had been using a pencil.

I wish I could erase.



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nocontrol said...
Mar. 14, 2013 at 11:04 am
I really like the way the poem opens...itching representing the insecurities of "invisible creatures," those things we scratch at but can never erase. I thought the "pretty girl/mistake" line was an effective understatement...a little critical, if chosen by the reader as such. The pencil/pen contrast was interesting...permanence and vulnerability of pen...those mistakes we can't erase.  I think there could be more connection between the eraser scratching away mis... (more »)
 
nocontrol replied...
Mar. 14, 2013 at 11:05 am
This was written by a friend of the poet...whilst logged in to her account!
 
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