I tell him to use fewer commas. Your sentences, I say,
aren't sentences; they're, like, little islands of clauses.

That's what sentences are, he says.
Sentences are little islands of clauses.

I know. I know, I tell him. But yours,
they're, like, motherfucking archipelagos.

I pause when I feel it necessary to pause,
is his cool defense.

Well, fuck it, I tell him, didn't mean to
make fun of your dash, Ms Dickinson.