If I were a mathematician
I'd want to prove that circles are in motion,
that centers are not points but pools
filled with whirling spirals
of honey,
that edges don't exist,
and all possible dimensions
are enclosed in a golden mote of lily pollen,
my toes and fingers asymptotes
approaching the coordinates
of some perfect body,
whose leavened lips are gently pressed
and pouted in a pink torus
shaped like a donut,
murmuring the cosmic
microwave background music
of the universe.
But I have no aptitude for math, really.
I am so filled with astonishment
I can't even count to seven
without bursting into laughter and tears,
and shouting "Thank You!"

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