about a pen

in the coffee shop today a man asked to borrow my pen. at first i was caught off guard and slightly irritated due to the interruption (i was daydreaming). as i watched him address some letters i found myself glad that i had relinquished the pen and i forgave the interruption. 

he was endearing. at least i perceived him to be that way.

he had a kind, simple face. 

as he departed i imagined what it would be like if more people (in los angeles) asked to borrow pens from strangers in coffee shops. 

moreover, what if the realm of borrowing encompassed more than a pen? what if we borrowed books and clothes and (gasp) even money from each other - without feeling burdened?

what if borrowing turned into sharing

and awkwardness into familiarity,

hesitancy into eagerness,

inconvenience into delight?

strangers might become comrades.

we might for once forget ourselves.

death could turn into life.