Squalls

 

I keep myself up to date,

not with what you do

but how you are;

I read the squalls

coming in over the ocean.

Like newspaper print,

they drizzle upward,

and, truth to tell, they hanker

after tragedy;

I find them totally compelling.

So, yes, down to the last comma

(they don’t do stops)

and I know that you know this,

I know how it is with you;

no tragedies, but squalls: how apt, yes.