The Mind

seems always ten feet
ahead of the body,
eight fingers negotiating
a keyboard, while
tech support languishes
in a drive-thru, halfway
between super-sized
fries and a fix for
the breakdown between
the expectations of
visualization and the
everyday, the small
moves and entries, the
comma and the decimal
point, the way a
conversation ends on
a jagged note, like rust
eroding ideas, like
waves cleaning a
complicated slate,
equations blending into
glorious contradictions