Writing RAPE OF THE PAGE: Or, Yearbook Signatures

[Brasil]

?Yearbook Signatures?

Yearbook signatures,
Where there?s a blank spot.
Crazy cursive or crazy print

Yearbook signatures,
Lots of great times
And lots of Keep In Touch.
Such a nice formality indeed.

Yearbook signatures,
What did they all mean, though.
They were writings in pen
In pencil, in marker.
Lots of great summers
And there?s to next year.
Good lucks and smiles,
And hearts and luv.

Yearbook signatures,
Next to the pictures
Or off in the corner,
Taking up half-page, too.
Some written sideways,
Some were inverted,
Some were oblong blobs,
Some were perverted,
But what did they all mean.
Hidden codes and cloak and dagger,
Simple farewells.

Yearbook signatures,
Still writing on paper,
Find a blank spot and then
Write, write, write.
Take a minute, write a note,
Signature takes a second or two.
An essay perhaps,
Length requirements where.
No length specified, no rules set.
Write an epic, write a blurb.
Does it matter how long,
Cause what did they all mean.
Dot the I?s, cross the T?s
Or not. Grammar doesn?t matter,
Not here, not now, not in
The blank space of the page.
Just fill, fill, fill.

Yearbook signatures,
Longhand, flowing, beautiful,
Smooth like silk. Or not.
Shorthand, perhaps. Rough,
Jagged, harsh, cuts the page,
Makes it bleed.
Bleed the page, injure it,
Make it cry for mercy,
Hear the scream.
Propagate your thoughts,
Spread your ink.
Cover the page with your pen.
Leave no inch untouched.
Jab the periods, slash the T?s.
Fill, fill, fill.
Smile, must leave a smile,
Or a heart, cause signing
Is an act of love.
The words on the page,
What do they all mean.

Yearbook signatures,
Leaving their mark,
Marking where they?ve been.
Territories of the page,
Borders without flags,
Different colors everywhere.
Unity and where.
Ink covering, pressed down hard,
Pens delivering the ink,
From an excited hand, jumpy,
Breathing heavily, pulse quick
Like thoughts. Thoughts race,
Spilling onto the page.
Nearly a stream of ink,
Only cut short and chopped up
By a thrust of the pen,
A powerful dot.
It stops the thoughts.
The torrent subsides as
A familiar mark is left.
A heart.

Yearbook signatures,
Are they so innocent,
Covering everything,
Spread all over.
Don?t admit it now,
But know it to be true.

Yearbook signatures,
Nothing more than
A Rape Of The Page.

~End