This poem may not make sense to most readers, but please bear with me. It is dedicated to a friend who has failed to abandon me even at my most neurotic, and has probably increased my serotonin levels by a pretty high percentage, causing me to annoy at least one history teacher by making me laugh drunkenly in class and draw an American soldier saluting with the wrong hand. May we always feel comfortable sharing with each other what we wouldn’t want a more judgemental person to hear.

Santa Monica Beach from Palisades Park

“Come on! You let the woman with a stroller pass you!”

This is how you encouraged me to keep going, to finish the race

In this race of life I feel we are on the same team

Though we may not speak the same language (01001010 01000111).

If you were a math problem

I would draw crinoids in the answer space

And if I were a book

I imagine you would translate me into code

In other words

Our brains are two separate galaxies.

Humans are monkeys without cute fuzzy hair

Hanging out with friends is Magic.

If we can agree on a few basic facts

We can run the world.

When that Southern California wave bows to the sun

Dividing the sky in the Golden Ratio

I hope you hear the music of freedom

And remember, History dictates that it is the wise who are most foolish. ~ Okabe Rintarou, Steins;Gate


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