6 Dec 2012

The Inkling Man

I have an inkling destined to become a chore, for the damn thing just keeps returning: I give it away; I mail it away; I even gave it to the small man, with hands tattooed 'Yes' and 'Yes', but he refuses and gives it back. So I burn it; I build on it - I forget with what; I even arrange for it's double to replace it but no, still, the inkling remains. So I say it once to an old friend in an attempt to let it go. I even say it four times in a phone conversation to a stranger, thinking it might somehow disappear in the strangeness. I even write the damn thing on my hand and walk slow through the rain. But no. It remains. I'm going to call The Inkling Man: he comes in fourteen sizes now, and three different ways: I'll choose the best tomorrow, have him email me the chart, which I consider after lunch.


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