Notebooks

First I'd like it if you could understand that I was born

Through a cut that slashed my mother's womb.

Second, even if you told me twice,

Sex would still be all I'm good at,

& I could could calculate to half-degrees which

Things you thought I should learn and keep.

Third, I don't remember the way you moved

But how hot you were against my thigh.

I awake alone sometimes but still

Can feel you hot against my thigh.

Fourth, even if if you asked me now

I would still be jealous.

& I can can count the even sum

of ways I thought we could combine.