They print their lives on a price tag, Those big fat numbers, All they do is brag. My daughter’s a neurosurgeon, Graduated from Johns Hopkins, Saving lives by the hundreds. My son a number-crunching accountant, A career that keeps his wallet thick, And his pockets filled.
They wonder what I do, I tell them I work with words. They gasp, Eyes widen.
I tell them that, I can count the spaces between adjacent letters in a word, String words together to build a sentence, Layer each sentence above another like bricks, Place a single powerful mark of punctuation in between, The glue that holds the bricks intact and forms a wall. A wall of stanzas, Connected by commas and semicolons. A wall of paragraphs, Big enough to block numbers out.
Because words fill souls while numbers fill pockets. Words are immeasurable.