spilled ink.
every day
i sign my name
a letter,
a period,
six more letters.

proof i was here
signing for something
that i don't want
or can't own.

paying the bills
signing a clipboard
a name i hate
a name i couldn't pick out of a line-up

it's a box,
an envelope,
a vase of flowers,
a suitcase,
chocolate,
a book
it's anything but me anymore.

seven letters,
twenty times a day,
six years and counting

a period

it's your birthday

NB @ 3:22 PM

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