The logo on his bag says
Nantucket Historical Society, 2002
but his face shows no passing
of time; as if he just left a mould
and sits carrying out left-behind
instructions; circling the commas
scheduled for execution, sparing
a dash here, a parentheses there,
cleaning up the page like the way
he has organised his life. His glasses,
suit and umbrella follow subject, object,
verb. There are no adjectives
caught in his reflection. The world
is not a mosaic of memories, colour
and experiences but subjects, objects
and verbs, watching life only to correct it.
