Good morning Loretta, don’t you ever tire of the same facial expression, lifeless plastic doll, oh but I see you do have some

luck be a lady

Good morning Loretta, don’t you ever tire of the same facial expression, lifeless plastic doll, oh but I see you do have some brand new snakes in your hair, how shall I uncount them, let me unlove the ways, math disability, yes ma’am today we talk about whole

fuckin numbers, one through Q.

Algebra one or Psychotic tendencies, is there a difference?

Well, alls I know is one of them is not about me, I rest my case.

High School Drop-out meet Community College, no, wait, first go get First Class

FCC Radio-Telephone Engineer’s License, where the hell did that come

from, I musta had a better brain back then, before all the tangled snakes

moved in; I remember a world from long ago world:

Ohm’s Law, Root-Means-Square, Capacitors, Resistance,

Sine(feld) waves (shalom!), oscilloscopes, stepping on crosstown

buses with a headfull of schematics, typical woman, shit-fer-brains, can I

get a transformer please, er, excuse me, I mean transfer?

Here today, gone today, logic out, psychosis in, someone should have mentioned

that before I traumatized the community college, oh no you don’t, not letting in no

retards with a fifth grade educated math level, financial aide, all of it every penny

goes to remedial math, that was my time in college y’all, same math classes 5

years straight.

Department Head:

I don’t get this at all.

How did you answer all these advanced problems correct when you failed all the steps that prepare you to comprehend these same higher level problems? It doesn’t make sense, bizarre, he says, your thought processes are bizarre, oh now trouble, enough of that, go wash your face in cold water, pull yourself together, it’s only math, it’s not the end of the world.

It’s only symbols, symbols only I can see that just so happen to be all about

me,

neighbor has car on blocks, is working under hood, nope, car is me, every day

I take myself apart and wait for some neighbor to put me back together, here’s

what I get from lover who will sit at breakfast table, read newspaper and drink coffee with me in companionable silence:

proof that the world does not revolve around me

I don’t get this at all.

Don’t tell me there’s big huge geographical areas filled with people and times he’s

reading about, and every one of these places ruled by little rectangular squares

of dyed green paper, nothing but economics from land to land, but let him

read the news if it makes him feel secure.

So, um, you wanna re-calibrate my gyroscope, you any good with numbers?

1-2-3-4 nowiwannasniffsomegluenowiwannahavesomethingtodoallthekidswanna etc/ect

Hey Mr. mathman-fibonacci-logician, I’ve got your number, your new lucky number:

Zero, as in whole fuckin Loretta in all her glorious worlds.

And what, you ask is this to you?

The next nothing nowhere for me to crawl out of.

trouble

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