B L I N K

The vertical line blinks at me, and I blink in return.
We stare at one another, neither willing to lose.
My eyes begin to water and burn.
While the line dances with no intention of stopping.
So, I cheat and force it to move along the page.
The keys beneath my fingertips click and cheer my
mind to continue spewing forth words that propel
the vertical line downward as if it were skiing on
the snow-white page. My hands work faster than
my mind can comprehend like a whirlwind.
Spitting out jargon rather than dust. Suddenly, I
find my head bobbing along to the rhythm of the
text cursor as we move past our differences and a
story slowly forms with our joint effort.

But the thought is too nice to last.

I hit the wall. I freeze. The cycle starts again.
The competition resumes.
The vertical line blinks at me. And I blink in return.