I won't mind being surreal,
if you won't scurry
seeing me in my real self,
and kind enough not to
think of me as outlandish
as something like 'Shrodinger's cat'
kept in a box
that is both alive and dead!
(to the universe outside the box
as the' Copenhagen interpretation' implies,
dont ask me how!)

I am least interested in'quantum entanglement'
which i can do without, but oh! mathematics
that mother of all sciences is hell bent, it seems
to hunt me down till I say uncle.

They have  told me ,
what I am now
is not mathematically possible!
(whatever it means)
They looked at me as if
I don't exist.

(Oh! my poor Shrodinger's cat
I now understand your plight;
oh ! to be both dead and  'undead' theoretically
when reality chooses to go naked!)

I just said this:
I have no use to mathematics
that refuses to believe in me
if maths find me unacceptable
all I want to say is this,
how would maths even touch poetry with a barge pole?
and don't forget, maths creates the poetry of the universe!

Oh! I am confused
forgive me for being Buridan's ***
that sees in maths 'Shrodinger's cat'


They looked horrified
and in a moment
turned to thick smoke
and dissolved!