a g o d d a m n g r e e n p e n
T O M D E V A N E Y
There's a green plastic pen under the hall table.
Ball Pentel Fine Point R50 JAPAN black ink pen.
Line. Nothing. Scratch; quick circle.
Question: Karo in from Hamburg for two nights;
M's officemate's most impractical collection of colored pens and highlighters;
My lover's lover? (One year to this green-eyed monster.)
Or closer evidence; The hand
of Lou (my teacher), tight script,
though ends of his letters wisp precisely,
minimal and off to side, slanted, pointed.
He wouldn't be as wordy writing
his way out, or further (I could see that) into this question.
This line of questioning, yes. These words questioning, no.
Clues are calling (the scant "calling quality" of clues in general),
like the phone ringing, telling, "That pen is from my bag."