The copier ate my originals. And
they had ink signatures
on them.
Oh, man. I got them out the other end
- they were stuck, I pulled them loose
as carefully as I can, and then - just
look! Macerated, torn
crumpled, all but digested, but
oh okay.
I guess
this is recoverable. This
will not mar the accord. I will
be able to smooth, flatten out, scan,
then clean up the digital rips, all
without altering a jot of language - who
is to know the difference?
And nothing at all shady about this. But
somewhere, in the back of my mind,
in my cabinet of ink originals, this thing
is going to sit.
This contract
is going to look so dumb
if they ever ask to see it
again
It will look - what? Deliberate
-ly demolished! Smooshed, half
torn in half
and a big corner off, floating
separate in the clear cellophane
envelope we use
to keep it together. It will look
like we're the kind of outfit who is like
"got one signed! A sacred agreement,
HERE'S HOW WE TREAT THESE!!" Man, I hate
what this piece of paper,
looking like this,
says about me.
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