Taken in by a Ferrule
Colors can push you over the edge.
And I really prefer the sketchiness
of the pencil sound,
the way the round, defined housing
shelters me from the lead.
I prefer to live with the promise of erase ability,
so ironically decisive,
yet--I still cross things out, out of habit.
Surely you realize that even this writing
is not without some danger.
That the friction can become tiresome,
can become needy,
can become divisive,
and I might get caught up
in the reflection of that shiny metal piece
that ties eraser to wood, that little connector
so needlessly intricate and cold.