By: Bluefin Jones
Paper. Just paper.
Only paper. Your paper. My paper. Our paper.
It’s feel after you dry your hands; goosebumps. It can cut. Cuts shallow but feels deep.
Words, pictures, words, pictures, words, pictures.
A love letter
on paper can be bad.
Too bad.
A cover letter is so smooth of your interest. The interest of your job interest.
That’s a lot of interest, huh? An interest, you’ll know, stems first from curiosity.
A B C D E F G.
We were all there once. With paper. Always paper.
Trees are good thus
paper can be bad.
Too bad.
A birth certificate, social security card, money. Paper money. All paper, all important to someone.
A death notice can really liven up the mood to the greedy, but
paper can be bad.
Too bad.
Parchment was before, when it had value, real value. And now. Paper.
No one cares about how paper fees when a discarded idea is flying in the air into the trash.
Paper can be so good… but
too bad.
BIO: In a time different from this, on a distant sea, Bluefin Jones, while riding his domesticated Dinoshark, spoke to another man simply named Redwing Smith, who was held by the claw-hooves of a giant flying Pot-bellied pig, about the quality of peanut butter in this timeline’s supermarkets. Bluefin chose the leading market brand name while Redwing chose the generic brand, and promptly so, they entered an epic battle of wits, loud noises, scoffing, and theories of the sandwich crafting. They went their separate ways and never spoke again, but Bluefin still thinks about that fateful encounter and adjusts his sleeping schedule for 20-minute crying fits of frustration. Bluefin Jones seeks an outlet from the separation and found that his creative outlet is best expressed through the written word.