The hideous comma never lets me finish the line.
I go on thinking, but the trajectory of thought
passes by the semicolon or period in defiance
of the prophets, poets, leading to confusion.
I live in confusion as the fish in the water
or the eagle in the sky. The comma baffles me
as the broke with few pennies to spend it today
or leave those for tomorrow’s stingy breakfast.
The intrepid comma leaves a question mark
on everyone and everything. I keep interpreting
meaning beneath meaning, sign beneath sign,
sigh beneath sigh, love beneath love.
I keep standing like a confused mountain
looking at the capricious clouds that keep
changing shapes every stammering moment.
I didn’t invent the comma or the confusion.
7 December 2019