The Mathematics of Forgetting

Instrumental Intro

Verse

I caught a thought undressing in the hallway of my head

It wore the face of something I had never quite said

I asked it for a reason. It requested better light

Then sold me back my silence at an existential price

There's a little mathematician counting raindrops in my skin

While a Buddha made of cigarette smoke asks who let the weather in

And I keep finding tiny doors where ordinary words have been

But every time I open one the room begins again

Spoken

Hm. Yes. Well

That is precisely the trouble with accuracy

It keeps arriving slightly after the fact

Like a biographer who hates you

(hm hm)

I was going to say something about transformation

Lead into gold. Or gold into a receipt

But the accordion disagrees

It always disagrees. It has a lung condition and opinions

And frankly I have stopped defending my position

Scat Singing

Mmm-da-da-dee, hm-hm-hm

Oh-oh, da-da-dee, hm

Spoken

Where was I

Ah. Right. Nowhere in particular

Which is, geographically, an excellent place to think

My knees have begun composing a requiem

In a key that does not exist

And the spoon—the spoon in the empty glass—

Has more conviction than I do tonight

(nothing. nothing. that is the whole answer)

Ha

Humming

Spoken

The candle melts into a shape that resembles my father

Except it leans. My father never leaned

He stood like a theorem

Correct. Unbearable. Briefly luminous

And I loved him the way one loves long division

Reluctantly. Completely. Without ever checking the answer

Humming

Spoken

I have spent

An embarrassing quantity of my life

Arguing with furniture

The chair has never lost

The chair has never once apologized

And I respect that

I respect that enormously

(oh)

Enormously

Spoken

There is a mathematics of forgetting

You subtract the witness. The event remains

You subtract the event. The witness remains

And you are left with the remainder of a person

Sitting very still. Being polite about it

Humming

Spoken

My mother's hands were an entire vocabulary

She could say be careful

And don't be afraid

And I am so tired

With the same four fingers

No one ever taught me that language properly

I have been mispronouncing grief for decades

(mispronouncing. mispronouncing)

Spoken

Right. Yes. Well

Perhaps that is enough mathematics for one evening

The piano has stopped making excellent points

It has started making

Merely adequate ones

And I—I am going to

I am going to

(hm)

I forget

Something about the light

Something generous

Something

Instrumental Outro