20_10

Hopefully this new year will bring new words. Thinking my recent acquisition of two antique typewriters should only serve to help such a conception. Aging ink ribbon leaves ghost words. Whenever someone sticks their fingers in my mouth, I half-expect them to come away with black hands. Meanwhile I daydream about girls who bat their eyelashes and strike words on their cheeks. They chatter and chatter. I know when it is my turn to speak because somewhere a bell sounds. The words sit smiling in the dark circles under their eyes, a word I can never perceive.

My resolution is to write a novel.