Scantron Geometry

and the cosine
of the tangent
in his mind
didn't equal
the radius or
circumference
of her heart.

two lines
on a plane
never inter-
secting and
the spring
season is
upon the
world as
he tries
to guess
the angle,
any of the
angles. 45
degrees?
more?

the door is a
rectangle,
a means of
escape if you
use it to leave.

the window is
a square - being
smoked late alone
at night, framing the
scene.

the music is a circle,
even electronically.

the heart is an
irregularly shaped
object of affection or
misdirection.

the poem is a
triangle - the
poem, the
poet, the
reader.

the end is a point.

the beginning is a point.

and the points on the grid
of our lives begin to form
images if you stare in-
tently long enough.

maths and
words. loves
and numbers.
equations and
letters. his and
hers. & the rest,
the rest is just a
blur - smudged
Scantron sigh.