Words kiss the paper with tenderness
The whiteness dimples with ciphers and script.
She tests a word change, a new phrase, scratches out lines,
Begins again. The process pleases her.
The professor's red pen matches his rum-ruddy face,
He shakes his head, then the paper, like a terrier,
As if his rough treatment will make her pretty words
Slide off, cringe and hide, slink away.
"Where's the stark reality? the sex and violence?
The language of the streets?
Do you live in Fairy Land? Are you Tinkerbell?"
He believes he knows best what the world wants,
He is afterall, Mr. Hollywood.
He ignores the greed that buries his intuition,
And will not tune in to hers,
for love and joy and beauty,
For what matters to her heart on this day.