Remainder

stretching our legs
out in the backseat
of a car called Death
and waiting
for it to drive at last
off the edge of
some horizon
somewhere

we do long division
in our sleep
(the problems we work
 that wedge between
 us in the dark)
and I am starting to understand
that I am merely your
remainder

(so please round me off
 and let me go --

 or let me take the
 wheel, and
 we will fall across
 the cracks inside the
 Earth
 together)

so come on
so come on
divide the days we have left
by the answers I've withheld, multiply
by the length of your hair
and tell me, when
you finish the
equation:
will it (finally) tell you
what
you
want
            ?