Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Countable



One I am me
Two makes me and you
Three makes me, you and she
Four makes you, me, she and he.

Five doesn't mean we're alive
Six is supposed to represent extraordinary sense
Seven for numerologists is heaven
Eight is always enough to hate.

Nine for the obscurantist is divine
Ten years sentenced to the Pen
Eleven is four plus seven
Twelve is too much to indulge.

Thirteen through nineteen is adolescent pain
Twenty produces abundant energy
Thirty in New York is pronounced dirty
Forty begins middle aged tricky.

Fifty is said to be nifty
66 is not too late for sex
'77 produced an album by Television
88 in Bingo is two fat ladies.

Enough with the counting in rhyme
An infantile waste of time
As a poet I don't need to relearn my ABC's
My own objective is not to be a Notsee.

-Der Kosmonaut
Zurich, Switzerland
Summer 2018

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