All night Raoul and I
postulated the Unified Field Theory
which would synthesize
Quantum Physics with the Theory of Relativity.
Raoul was a little weak in physics and after
six beers
my imagination constipates so we ended up
half-heartedly fucking on the living room
floor.
Our next goal was to quantify the meaning of
existence.
We weren’t certain if all this blood, muscle
and mucus
was the essence or merely comprised a complex
vessel for the soul,
(and what, after all, constitutes the soul?).
We couldn’t even determine where the Universe
ended,
if it indeed ended. What possibly exists beyond it?
Didn’t god die?
I aimed for immortality through Art
but Raoul declared that the replication of his
DNA
mated with mine into offspring was all the
meaning he needed.
Since this muse was the only lay I’d had in
months
I neglected to mention my tubal ligation.
We didn’t stand a chance.
Christ!
The Universe used to be a metaphor.
Now it’s being rebuilt mathematically.
Even lifting the most advanced concepts
from psychology, theology and art
I’m at a loss.
I don’t grasp conical Geometry
let alone tensor Calculus.
Some nights even
touching Raoul is more a question
than the desired
answer of
embrace.
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