The little line drawn man is everywhere
Everywhere there are two objects
Preferably close together
Preferably sort of round
Or oblong in shape
Those are his eyes you see
And when I see them anywhere
My mind draws in a face
Often it's just in my head
A wavy vacuous outline
Other times someone has beaten me to it
And drawn him in living black sharpie line
Occasionally I draw him myself
But not often
I've been told that's childish
But sometimes
That child gets the better of me
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