A Fine Pair

A fine pair of asymptotes
Are we
Here
At the end of our ropes
You and your futile hopes
Of reaching that y-axis
That stretches up up and away
Knowing deep down
You’ll only get close
And me
Stretching my limbs for
My more attainable goal
A sweet spot just north
Of the x-axis
A lush meadow
Where soft breezes blow
And the trigonometry of love
Means that
Once there
Approaching infinity
I’ll never think of you again
And just go on and on
With what
Was meant to be


Paul Smith writes poetry and fiction. He lives in Skokie, Illinois, with his wife, Flavia. Sometimes he performs poetry at an open mic in Chicago. He believes that brevity is the soul of something he read about once, and whatever that something is or was, it should be cut in half immediately.


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