Not Quite Pi Day

On this Valentine’s day version
for the ever-late nerds,
watches tucked into pockets,
stray hairs tucked behind ears,
glasses correctly adjusted,

forever tic-tic-changing
the angles of vision,
forever (with an impressive lack of repetition) staring,
startling, at different objects
of affection—not that you are an object oh
no oh
dear language I
am sorry my mouth slides
so unintentionally around expressions; these
cliches were not supposed to touch you that
was supposed to be my
list of reasons I
like that you’re a reader I
like how I’ve never seen you polish
your glasses can you
even see me and
I like
you more than math but maybe not
more than metaphor yet—

may I just say that I wish I could calculate the circumference of your palm
and show that its ratio is the same as mine,

this irrational mind skating away with its
beige hesitance and sloppy half-avoidance
and heavy glasses and eyelids and dear gracious
just prove to me that it lasts forever,

okay?

please?

like atoms like the fact that the past
happened like
numbers we haven’t bothered to be able to
conclude yet like headcanons like
legends (
you are so
legendary I think )
I’m not sure if history
is trying to convince my skin it’s wrong again
but you your hair your
Lightsaber-bright eyes
you make me double-check my tests for the first time
since elementary school
because the only option on multiple choices
seems to be your
name? I don’t understand this?
Also this curled punctuation
Also your eyes

Also I’m hoping

also
goodbye—

I check the safety locks by sealing myself in.



but please?
I’m trying to turn off the odds.
possibility?
maybe?

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