Suddenly, the crumpled papers jumped off the table

Words boiled out of the creases and leaked on the floor.

They formed pools, rather wordy soup.

They mingled and kissed, becoming once again

a kindergartner's alphabet.

Forms of punctuation were left out and not allowed to play

(they looked different)

The gloom of the typewriter clicked and binged out its lonely song,

like a nightclub singer in a seedy bar (more needless clich"s).

In its sadness, it longed to satisfy its wildest fantasies.

(The good old Smith-Corona was looking for instant gratification)

blue words, black words, crayon words mean nothing to me as they

swim in the white out ocean before me ...