there once was a man who only had good years on the odds
and bad ones on the evens.
he took to a general healer to fix his problem story
who sent him to a mathematician astrologist to see if it had a thing to do with the stars.
the mathematician astrologist told him that he did not work on the odd years as it was “bad for balance”.

in 2008 he slept as much as humanly possible to save up his energies
in 2009 he will wear himself so thin he’ll be ready to sleep thru 2010.

it became an incredibly complicated mess to the extent that he became lost in his own equation.
it was like outerspace where the supernovas were neon roman numerals.
uppercase V’s, I’s, L’s, M’s & most of all C’s.
his hair was growing longer and his glasses thicker. the thin bodies on the horizon playing in the park were becoming numerators and denominators.

every kiss he would try to take from a woman became a distance minus velocity.

could you imagine your entire life sucked in by lifeless figures who tell no tales?
picture a world of grandfather’s clocks without pendulums and only a simple mind sewn inside, trying with its life to sort it all out.

in 2010 he slept as much as humanly possible to save up more energies
in 2011 he will wear himself so thin he’ll be ready to sleep thru 2012

having lost his own age in trying to uncover the secret of his dilemma, he claimed to
be 29 going on pi.
latitudes and longitudes pulled at him on maps and cities became blurs.
countries melted into measured borders, the entire world is homework.

exhausted in his research he retired at a ripe variable of days times hours or something along those timelines. we will never know the quotient or where the earth was on its axis. meanwhile,
he continued to write letters to the love of his life on her deserted island in the middle of nowhere.

in a bottle, he would receive one from her every other year. telling him exactly how she felt.

01/01/2010

Author's Note: drink up the ocean until the salt is you

Posted on 01/01/2010
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