Office Secrets

It is the instant puncturing of paper and the bending of metal–the thin wire, “I,” stretching across in firm rigidity with its two opposite ends thrust sharply into the dry, pulpy layers. Both poles resurface after their separate journeys, adamant as to their oneness. And so they reach for each other in futile passion, marked by their brief airborne flight in the path of wide double arches, only to collapse in the center with a cruel one millimeter gap separating their exhausted ends. It is a tragedy produced thousands of times a day by countless indifferent hands, involving a simple flexing simultaneous with the pronunciation of doom…kadink. The industrious execution of love.