My Pen is....

Opening up like a sunrise over the horizon, situations appear before my eyes and excite me. As if in translation from sight to mind, by mind interprets reality in a moment and when complete, gets my mind thinking where my pen is….

At these times, my pen swells in my pocket and I’m driven to take it out and allow it to spill ink all over the page. In between my finger and my thumb, my pen is tall and snug as a gun. I stare down the scene with voyeuristic eyes and squeeze my pen, waiting for the moment of enlightenment, inspiration, and stimulation.

A shift in reality and beauty disrobes herself, showing all to me- I wet the tip of my pen and, giving three quick clicks, am ready to write. Keeping my eyes on the object of my pen’s desire and concentration, I write rapidly up and down the page- up and down. I write so voraciously that my wrist begins to cramp and I notice that calluses are growing on my hands. But these minor setbacks are as in vain as the sand to the endless tide- my writing continues.

Driven like a Cadillac by an intoxicated businessman I weave over and across the avenues of the page and accelerate to higher levels of excitement. I can’t control myself, so I close my eyes, allowing my hand to freely write what my mind surely sees. By God, I’m done! I have ink on my hands and am breathing a bit heavily, finding difficulty to even open my eyes, but my pen is relaxed, waiting flaccid on my thigh for its next tour of duty.