Rubber Band

So I did it. Quick, half-arsed clean of my table. Most of the paper gone. Just a small stack of apparently necessary stuff. Two largely empty notepads. Listening to the White Stripes first album. A narrow archipelago of coins. My two sets of keys randomly splayed. A Stanley screwdriver pointing roughly my way – some small, clear plastic box adjacent to its tip, like a miniature prison in which the soul of the most evil person is kept. Pens, a portable hard drive. Francis Ponge’s The Nature of Things. I wonder whether Ponge would ever descend to simply listing items? Would he stoop to naming them without considering how they are properly described? A very small, circular rubber band, somewhat isolated. A pair of reading glasses in a dark cloth case. There were eight cargo ships on the horizon tonight. I walked along the beach in the rain. The bright lights of a football field made it hard to find my way back up to the path. I could see the rain on my shirt, which was becoming almost wet.