I would have laid my 8 on the table sideways
just for you, and said NO to all other chances
(both negative and positive) if you had offered
hope of a perfect circle anywhere in the future
of our grid-locked relationship.
Instead, you took a seeming random direction
to points I hadn't charted, swinging unpredictably
through every straight path I made, playing out
your break-ups and make-ups and break-ups
until the loops became predictable.
I finally did the math and realized, you were never
focused or repentive, nor was it a case of confusion
or cold-feet that caused you to fuck up my life.
You call yourself a "real man," but all you are
is a goddamn parabola.