I will be very,
Very happy if the clock
Completes itself, modular
Bastard that it is,
Always coming back around
To twelve. Of everything else
Numbers lie about,
Behold, it comes back to twelve!
I would be very happy,
If I spun a die,
And it gave me the number
To which I’d always return.
But it won’t, it can’t, I can’t.
Every number’s on a die.
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