you are a thousand meteors crashing into earth
pouring rain against my ice thin windowpanes
screaming thunder beating against my chest
rattling my nerve endings roaring my throat
sore you are the way imaginary numbers are not
real what metaphysicians dream to discover you
are lightning piercing down my spine
crackling down my frail bones.
you are winter nights in overheated college dorms
and thirty six hours in front of a laptop screen and
my touches between your shoulderblades you have
forgotten — you are the choice
between a thing that you will never touch only
see (i squared) (an algorithm) and me, and
you did not choose me.