My new old typewriter (a poem)

Oh, the fun continues. Meanwhile…

By definition
it’s Royal blue
straight out of the 20th Century
from a factory in Japan
clean, well-built
looking as new
as the day it was born

(Yes, I should say ‘made’
but that would reduce it to an object
It may not have gender
but it has soul)

My fingers control the keys
but they work with me
to give form to thoughts
sometimes guessed, but never seen

The lines on the paper
serve no purpose
but if you’re going to go old-school
may as well go all the way back
(college ruled, thank you)

Because what’s the point in having a soul
if you don’t feed it?

(17 September 2017)

 

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