**** she your momma
misspelled your name
shoulda been Raygun
or Learjet

I sure wish you were a
physicist
so you could help me write my
General Theory of Poetry

teach me calculus
so we could prove Newton
was all wrong

but I posit a theory:
you must be an electrician
of the human body

well my circuitry is all ****** up,
if you read your way crack back to my
October, my doc told me I was a dying
and he didn't want to doctor me no more

so you see my bits done byte me good,
but named me a "dead" line in human fashion,
Nay, by May Eighteen, got finish my theorem,
cause I'm black hole'd and ******* myself

so have Leah bring a coffee refill,
let's get to collaborate,
I will operate in the ether of fudge factors,
you, will solder circuitry thru modern chemistry
and I will have my theory but no answers
but then I can give up this hopeless
poetry gig one lazy time and just
live your New York dreams

Read http://hellopoetry.com/raygan-keller/