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The mathematics are that I can't write this one for the life of me,
it's got me thinking about what "for the life of me" could ever mean,
or about how our calculator minds are just adding up, adding up,
forgetting the numbers and more importantly about how that doesn't make sense.
Mathematics are always there to make sense, that's why we say "mathematics,"
instead of math (you have to sound important sometimes).
Adding and subtracting words, looking at them the way
I looked at sunflowers when I was small, so into everything all of the time.
Multiply them by Tuesday, divide by Wednesday.
I don't know anything about numerators but we have this common denominator,
you and I, we have the same faces for each other.

nothing important happened today

demands-
feel special feel special feel special
THIS IS A SPECIAL DAY
a terrible phone conversation or,
shaving your legs too fast or,
even just a bad hair day
no, no no no.
"Not on your birthday."

run, a way

A wet hair in the winter kind of thing,
wanting to leave, wanting to leave, watching the leaves.
Stacks of books, irritable cats, unopened bills,
postcards I can't throw away, trash I can't get rid of.
Maybe I will stay and laugh in the greeting card aisle for a while,
maybe buy heating pads during the other parts of the month besides that time.
A crying for no reason kind of thing because reasons,
like dads, say things like "I know why" and they do.
And then, you know, so do you.

doomed

Unsure, like baby sparrows.
"What kind of tomorrow will it be?"
Walking in circles, imitating our thoughts.