The Lost Bits of Paper

Have lost a bit of paper. A bit of paper that I needed. A bit of paper I lost before, and so was re-posted to me. A bit of paper that I’ve looked and looked for, and may be at the new house, or this house (I’m still in this house while I wait for a bed to be delivered to the new house), or the house just before this one, but not the one before that (which was only a couple of months ago) because that was the house I lost the first bit of paper in.

You can tell me to be more careful with bits of paper, but that’s because you probably have the time and space to store all your bits of paper, and also you’re unlikely to have as many bits of paper as me, unless you’re a poet as well. The new house will be the first house I actually have a desk in. So maybe then there will be drawers, in that desk, for all those bits of paper, and I can get a paper tray, and train those bits of paper to behave themselves. I might even clip them, bind them, make them suffer, those naughty papers, pay them back for all the suffering they’ve ever done to me.

I’ve had enough of bits of paper! Hole-y sheet, but you A4 rulered padded stacks disgust me. Okay, so I use you, screw you up, and toss you away, but that is far more than you really deserve. Look at you! Blank-faced, as if you’re unaware, or showing your lines, as if you worry, about me, about our relationship… But when I need you, can I find you? NO. You’re never there for me, bits of paper. And from now on in, I’m going to give less time to YOU.

*Buys e-reader, iPad, netbook, and smartest of smart phones. Wonders if she can use these to trace the lost bit of paper. Ah….*

mab-jones-poet-poetry-Wales-welsh-cardiff-writer-paper

 

 

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