Math is hard. It's hard because it's not soft, like the feel of flesh under the knife as it bites down. It envelopes us as if we have to lick it and then press down. And while nothing really does close over you as you plunge into the depths of the lake, there is something about the elasticity of the water that stretches out around you as you push, without breaking. 
     There is something geometric about the car shaped hole in the ice, a geometry that seems to transcend the general feeling of awkwardness around the edges. And things never stuck out more, than on that day that we swore we'd never see each other again, swore we'd had enough of the sight of each other, swore, at each other, till we were blue in the face. And you had said that I should stop the car and let you out, and I had said that's crazy are you nuts, it's freezing out there, and you said there you go again, calling me crazy, would a crazy person do this?
     In between awkward drives like that we'd have awkward sex in the awkwardly placed motels around the area, dotted as if in reticent shame, withdrawn from the teenage blush of the town. It would be as if they had been built to position themselves in the main stream of human movement through the area, and be thwarted by the geography of the situation, that for some reason the routes just started to wind more and more, like a river flowing through a flat area. And so they would jut, just like I would.
     It's a strange thing, to wake up day after day for a number of days, and be filled with this sense of desperation and anxiety, as if elephants were green, and tumbled dancing with bows on. And so the sinking feeling that is so often described with the heart, has every likelihood of having everything to do with your stomach, with digestion. And so what mastication leads to this hazy remembrance of cheese? I like to give things significance which obviously already have significance, I'm a broad side of a barn that way. Let's go swimming and wear sunglasses.