oh, you thought i meant . . .
you thought i was saying . . .
wow, this is awkward.

i know that you are not I
in the confines of these glowing screens
and sounds of pounding keys (mine much more booming than yours):

i just meant that you (Allison) are an I
and i am an i—
this was not a commentary on your speaker who i wish to know more dearly.

(and i will always be i regardless of I things
as to keep my head from swelling up
which you—or your speaker—says it does

so often).
and someone is none of my concern
for i know that you are one and i am one

and together we make two;
but we are together, so that makes one.
our ones make two which makes one.

does that make sense?
i'm not the one who's good with numbers:
you clip coupons and return bottles

while i vote for politicians who will do all that
for me
(isn't democracy so keen?).

we both know you will do no such thing, this skewing of which you speak
you know well what you are doing, where you are going; you know that i
am left-handed.

i don't think poetry fits on a scatter plot
despite what we both learned in our respective
Introduction to Poetry courses.

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