Obtuse

twelve, twelve, seventeen,

eleven, thirteen, seventeen,

five, five, seven,

four, seven, eight,

twenty-nine, twenty-nine, forty-one,

twenty-three, forty-one, forty-seven…

 

something ain’t right here,

and maybe that’s the point

 

well three of them anyway…

 

things are beyond our control,

the universe is just that way,

your qualia is just saying that…

 

maybe the Edmund Fitzgerald

didn’t sink in your timeline,

maybe Edward Kennedy was

elected president too…

 

maybe you can taste the letter

fuchsia and you can see the

odor of bubblegum emanating

from your feet and the fireplace…

 

then again, something doesn’t

feel right for either of us,

or maybe it feels right for you…

 

my qualia disagree entirely

because the ethnostate still exists

even today, equality and the emperor

and all that…

 

and that’s the incenter, centroid,

circumcenter, orthocenter of my qualia…

 

everything is obtuse…

 

three, five, seven,

three, eight, ten,

two, three, four,

five, sixteen, nineteen,

seven, eight, thirteen,

seven, thirty-three, thirty-seven