Inky Zone

Somewhere between the felt tip and the ballpoint,
waving as its flag a typewriter ribbon,
lies in wait the dreaded inky zone.
Where fingerprints are commonplace
and stamp pads are the norm.
Where the badge of honor is a broken pen in pocket.
Where the fountain pen is king
and the inkwell still defines a way of life.
Where no one except martyrs should wear white.
And where the battle cry is still indelible.

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I'm a writer living in Massachusetts.