Northern_Lights_2017

2 My Disfunctional Love Letter Amanda Conway Dear Math, You kept me up all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Why do you torment me so? I can’t ignore you, nor swim in the fantasy of your death, for long after I am gone, you will be the one to dance upon my grave. Yet at the same time, you’ve become my new obsession, my muse. Please answer me this: If my brain is being crushed to death by your immense power, b, at the rate of x, when will it give way and explode, given the common denominator of y? You, Math, are the subject of my mental demise. You are unavoidable at any cost. Everywhere I go, there you are. I have no choice but to succumb to your greatness. You draw me in with your magnificence, and I am nothing but a glutton for punishment. Please, Math, I beg of you, show me the way. Sweep me off my feet and lead me out of this darkness which you were created to solve. Help me help you. I long to be with you, to proclaim your excellence, but please, I can’t do so unless I understand you. I’m trying, Math. I’m trying so hard to get to know you. Open up. Let me learn you inside and out. At the very least, know that through thick and thin, I will endure this struggle until the day I die, lest I succumb to your immense f=ma. Sincerely, Amanda Breakfast Burrito: A Corporate Office Poem Amanda Conway Silent but deadly Carefully crop-dusting beneath fluorescent lights. A case of the Mondays once again goes unnoticed. Oh lamentable day. The pungent scent of Debra’s meatloaf dances out from the break room. Weaving in and out of stuffy cubicle aisles, The scent traces across the helpless nostrils throughout the workplace. Lipstick stained Styrofoam cups. A conference call for nothing in particular ceases to ever end. Welcome to the world of stop ‘n chats, HR approved skirts, potlucks, and aftershave. There will be free donuts today in the break room. Please take only one, so there’s enough for everyone. Fine.