I realize now
I’ve broken you down
To something abstract.
An idea,
A formula for anyone
Of your same name:
A song multiplied by
Some memories,
Divided by
Some books on shelves,
Plus a cherished word
Or two,
Minus the vital concept
Of rationality.
Like those numbers
I was loath to calculate,
You were
Imaginary.
I'd tell them, you know, if they wanted to know. I'd tell them all sorts of things.
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