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.