MATHEMATICAL BLISS
When all the numbers match and the
integers roll into one another, I get
happy enough. Mathematical bliss,
some cranky psychiatrist called it :
when madmen get it perfect and start
again with the trouble. Out on the
street, the crumpled paper bags (from
long ago) start blowing in the wind, as
if nothing before them had any stability
either. We know those ruins as some
other form of bliss. When the cats in
the alley begin looking back at me,
with that hesitation step that only
felines can do. That's a form of
mathematical bliss too, and for
now it will have to do.
-
I might just wish to give it up.
Get me a cat instead of a dog.
Find me a tree, instead of a log.
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