THINKING TO YOU IN STATISTICS CLASS         -        a love letter

I rearrange everything into orders                     When will the bouncing, 

The kind numerically defined             the incessant, thrumming tapping,

The kind that splits a line            the compressed, convoluted furrowing,

And rectifies it                   ever catch up to the finicky beat of my heart?

They skip every one and three and five and and and        I create orders;

Digits arranging  creating their sequences            patterns of agreement;

Is an and a shiver or a twitch                      a 2 is only a 2 as it's written;

Or an addition                               Two means humanity, passion, voice.

It shifts to the right or left or or                               How I lie to myself.

Transformations or repetitions                            Squirming in statistics.

Is an or the lack of an and                     I appear shrouded by numbers,

Or a choice                                                But behind them is only you.