I am the Serif

I am the serif.  I speak in songs and participles.

I am the curve on a Möbius strip, waxing.

Waning, I am a pair of eyes through a lemniscate lens.


I am a sole person with a soul task.  And, no,

I don’t have that backwards.  I curve.  I move

In on myself and out again.  Growing older,


I find myself closer to the source.  I see a

Great distance from where I am and where

I want to be.  There’s math in my heart, while


My mind calculates the consequences of my

Feelings.  And none of this makes me cold.

I wear abstraction like a blanket in winter.


Love makes people go “over the moon.”

But how would you get there without

Rocket science?  I grow quiet at the thought.

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