My brother hands me a Rubik's Cube…
"Spin it once," he tells me, "Now twice,
Now once agin, the other way
It's not really hard, you just have to think about it."
But I'm not listening to him, the voice of concrete reason in my ear.
I tune him out, tune my brain to another radio frequency,
One that reasons not with logic but with feelings…
And I can almost match up all the squares on this litle box.
All except one. This one remains, stuborn as myself,
On the opposite side of the cube.
"Story of my life," I sigh,
And I hand it back to him.