p^2+2pq+q^2
you remind me of
the hardy-weinberg equilibrium.
somewhere in the middle,
where negative becomes more negative
and our positives become more positive,
our own successes
are magnified exponentially
so it’s not all about
“minding our p’s and q’s”
when we frequently discover
the frequency of our presence
in the other;
the appeal of
your alleles against mine.
p^2 you like girls in green dresses
and so do i. we sucked in
her milky white skin as i told you
i liked her collarbones
and slim thighs, you kissed the smoke
goodbye and told me that
you liked how lipstick looked
on pale necks anyway.
2pq i love you like peppermint tea
with honey and bailey’s
when you soothe me, and
like wasabi when you move me,
kick me into consciousness.
you love your doe-eyed darling,
you told me, “more than the sun”.
when you sang that sunshine
tasted like orange juice, i laughed
because i love orange juice
and hate myself, but somehow
i was convinced anyway.
the better part of two years
and four months have been spent
under your sheets, and coincidentally,
that means we’ve been together
as long as you were alive
before i was born now.
the day can’t come soon enough
for us to live longer with each other
than without, because i love the
bedroom eyes on your styrofoam irises
that don’t disintegrate
and your brick wall stomach
that doesn’t crumble.
q^2 i like boys that look like jesus
and so do you. we sucked in
our tongues when we went to mass
and i stuck communion in my pocket
because we haven’t committed any sins
worth anyone dying for.
so i sucked on your tongue later
to tell you that sodomy will never be a sin.
and if jesus was a homophobe,
i can name a prime place for him
to stick his cross anyway.
=1 but when we’re fucking,
sex is nothing.
i don’t love girls,
i don’t love boys.
i just love you.
the best forms of ourselves
differential reproductive success
you are my best trait
for every condition.
and we become one.
you remind me of
the hardy-weinberg equilibrium.
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