Once I dated a woman I only liked 43%.
So I only listened to 43% of what she said.

Only told the truth 43% of the time.
And only kissed with 43% of my lips.

Some say you can't quantify desire,
attaching a number to passion isn't right,
that the human heart doesn't work like that.

But for me it does-I walk down the street

and numbers appear on the foreheads
of the people I look at. In bars, it's worse.

With each drink, the numbers go up
until every woman in the joint has a blurry

eighty something above her eyebrows,
and the next day I can only remember 17%
of what actually happened. That's the problem
with booze-it screws with your math.

Jeffrey McDaniel

Tags: poetry the-biology-of-numbers

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