Limitations on Geography, or Meditations on a Moebius Strip


At parties they ask, what are the practical

applications of your work?  He shrugs and lifts

his drink.  And I can’t help, except to tactically

change the conversational ground; we shift


to books, my field (flunked calculus in school,

twenty-three years ago).  He does topology,

studies space and shape and line, the rules

that govern how we touch.  Geography


is just as cruel.  Twenty hours from her land

to ours – we did the math in school.  Three years back

and forth, a strain – until we let her hand

slow slip away.  We’re just friends now.  Why rack


our brains to find a way for her to stay?

To teleport would be the only way.




for Karina, with all our love