I am inundated in a sea of white and black.
Words surround, engulf, envelop me.
I cannot seem to escape.
I am swimming in the midst of p's and q's;
However, they are not minding me.
I pass a plethora of r's, who are getting a little rowdy
And shouting something about the Transcendentalists.
I latch onto a semi-colon, hoping to float to shore instead of swim;
Yet, it sinks sadly beneath a pile of o's.
A question mark peaks its quizzical head
Out from underneath a gaggle of giggling s's,
Wondering, I'm sure as to my presence.
Periods dot my view, one appearing indiscriminately after an M and an R.
I finally wade ashore and find Ralph Waldo Emerson
And Henry David Thoreau chatting it up with Queen Elizabeth and Thomas Middleton--
Something about women's rights and the importance of self, but I cannot hear their whole conversation over the clamor of the ocean behind me.