Fundamental Uncertainties (Stones)

We’re in between a three year honey moon phase

and a divorce without prenups;

We’re so close to frustration that we’ve forgotten perfection
is an actual word.
You’re ethanol cups half empty and cigarette smoke,
I sit beside you with incense and drink water, tap.
Loving one another should be as easy as Kindergarten alphabetics,
We’re algorithms.
I’m terrible at math.
As long as we’re nestled between constant sex
and constant celibacy (but closer to sex than celibate),
and as long as the word ‘perfection’
does not become an expectation,
we’ll be alright.

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