2001-02-06 - 10:49 p.m.

Calculations

(a Fugue project)

By my calculations, one ocean with a hundred French horns scattered over its floor constitutes a good start.
By my calculations, one pan of eggplant parmagiana requires ninety minutes to assemble.
By my calculations, one unfamiliar concerto invites eighty mistakes in rehearsal.
By my calculations, one sticky-pawed grudge costs seventy rosaries to dissolve.
By my calculations, the damage one bad instructor inflicts in sixty minutes lasts beyond fifty-five years.
By my calculations, one New York Times cookbook supplies forty nights of imaginary banquets.
By my calculations, one pair of cheap sandals lasts for thirty miles on the beach.
By my calculations, one load of dishes compensates for twenty perfunctory kisses.
By my calculations, one smashing evening of charades requires fifteen not-so-random phrases.
By my calculations, one sunbeam unfurls ten purrs from the cat.
By my calculations, one mistake by a HMO clerk demands nine irate phone calls to rectify.
By my calculations, one leather jacket saved eight inches of my forearm from scarring.
By my calculations, one outlaw cello overthrows seven years of fidelity.
By my calculations, one blue glass vase looks stunning with seven bright yellow daffodils.
By my calculations, one really good accordionist deserves a five-quid note.
By my calculations, one church tune stretches across the hymns of four denominations.
By my calculations, one microwave with two potatoes and three spoonfuls of pesto provide a satisfactory meal.
By my calculations, one lamp equals solace, two lanterns equal a revolution.

And none of what I�ve said is always true. The heart�s algebra is more than a trick of balancing digits. The heart�s geometry cannot be proven. The heart�s calculus defies graphs and theorems. And yet we cannot resist attempting to measure the crawl and flutter of the heart.