She reminds me to study for our test
Over the edge of her assigned reading novel
One Tuesday at lunch
As she sits with her back almost as straight as
The creases her mother has ironed out of her shirt,
You could do geometry with these perfect lines she creates,
Find clear answers when you plot points
On her perfectly straight teeth.
Mine have a colorful railway line running across them,
But they'll never be quite that right.
I wonder if she has ever been confused before.
I have only ever seen her live in graph paper and grid lines,
The equations in her color coded binder of a mind
Cannot be reconciled to the knotted mess of twins behind my eyes
And I wonder if she has ever questioned herself
Or her linear function life.