Writing with a borrowed pen.
Taped from top to tip,
in a ribbon tape.
Its ownership claimed in red,
horizontal letters,
indiscernible at first glance.
I check to see if they are
Chinese characters
or merely shapes,
before I tilt the pen and read.

I have come here specifically
to write,
forgetting to pick up
my favorite pen
on the way out.
The book bag I brought penless.

It affords me the chance
to honor today’s intention,
to do something new every day.
I am writing with a borrowed pen
in a public place.
Taped as though recovering
from a recent accident,
its ownership proclaimed
in blood red ink.