I was never very good at math.

Numbers roll past my eyes

like the wheels of a downhill cyclist

But as its taught in school; try, try, again

Practice makes perfect

perfect makes person

robotic motions create muscle memory

and hope.

hope that you will learn to love it.

I tried

But all for naught

Come grandma's deathbed

perched at the kitchen table

flipping through algebra textbook

with tear clouded eyes

one more problem to solve

one more eqaution to process 

one more subtraction to the equation of life

It's the logic

the simple, horrible logic

that makes death inevitable 

and numbers inevitable as well