I said love is slow
and dumb.
David Bowie’s Starman
played on the radio.
The mathematician didn’t have an accent
but a smartly hidden lisp.

I called you and sat in the parking lot
of a funeral home
off Preston and told you
everything I couldn’t
for half a decade. The
mathematician had told me
about twin primes. The thing is,
math couldn’t guarantee
better than 246, but
large twin primes exist. Somehow,
I needed to call you and announce
that it’s a short time
on the rock
and I’m a good woman
who loves you.

The world is falling apart but
I will wake up, have a smoothie,
take a vitamin supplement,
do some yoga. I will still be
in the same spot
no matter what I said
driving down 64.
We will either make love
or never
make love again 

k will still equal one.