When Confucius died,
the discount fortune company
hired his young counterpart,
Confusion.
On time Monday morning,
Confusion came to the office
and sat at his cubicle.
He set out his calligraphy set
and rice paper strips, but Confusion,
not a fan of Chinese food,
could not think of short phrases.
He tried to Google, but got
stuck on Facebook.
On Tuesday, Confusion left the desktop off,
to write. But because
he was more of an illustrator,
he drew pictures the fortune company
did not like.
On Wednesday, Confusion came to work
with two lists.
He figured, if he chose a common phrase
from one and a common phrase from
the other—and mashed them together—he'd
have a worthy fortune.
So Confusion began,
"You will step on the soil—
Like many butterflies."
"You display the wonderful trait of—
Inkjet speed."
"You will always have good luck in you—
Personal plumbing affairs."
Because Confusion always envisioned himself
an illustrator,
he had not bothered to study
English. And he was too
proud of his foolproof method
to consult the company editor.
He believed his fortunes were profound
because,
"Being an able man—
There are always."
Confusion's cookies were distributed to
buffets across the country.
Most complained, but the youth,
high on their new non-conformist
social power, kept the cookies coming,
and Confusion as writer.
After all,
"Beauty is various—
Apples appeal to them."
They made enough sense, they said,
and just less than too much.
So, Confusion turned the
desktop on and
threaded another fortune into its
cookie. He believed,
"You are soon going to change your present line of life—
To work."
For he had just arrived.
His lists were long and interchangeable,
and his inkwell was full.
by Alyssa Nedbal
in volume 4 issue 1
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Very clever. Got a smile from this reader.
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