December 4th, 2012



Logicians fall in love. They syllogize:
all lovers feel this aching in their heart
each time they see her, when they have to part.
Heartache's a symptom that they realize

means they have fallen sick, are sick with love.
Logic demands they struggle to get well,
avoid her, but avoiding her is hell.
This seems illogical, (but see above -

it is the common state that lovers share.
Logicians are all human, share the lot
of other humans, who all lose the plot
well lost for love.) Strict logic must despair.

Love turns logicians humble, sets aside
their rational, their syllogistic pride.


She cannot sleep. The bed is hard. It creaks.
The mattress is rucked up in tiny pleats
that welt her skin. The freshly laundered sheets
make her nose twitch. Awake six weeks

though it is her first night, and lurid dreams
of titans clashing, massive bills unpaid,
and airport corridors. She wakes afraid
and panting hard. The morning's dingy beams

prick at her tired eyes. She finds the door.
There's coffee brewing somewhere, she can smell
and with one sip, her plans begin to jel.
Sort out the bed - not sleeping is a bore -

Crush all her problems under stylish boots
with wit panache good hair and snazzy suits.