parallel

my perfect woman is a parallel line
and we’ll never meet
even though we may run in the same circles
go to the same shows
visit the same bar at the same hour
gaze around the room at the exact same moment
our eyes passing a hair
above or below each other
mere infinities away
and had I known she were my parallel line
I’d breathe a sigh of relief at just missing her
I’ll never dream about her
or hope to make out with her in dark corners
or give her my number
my email
my statistics

I need someone to intercept me
someone to converge toward
to have intersections with
someone who can agree on a point 
even just one point
someone to kiss and make up with
when we’ve crossed badly
someone who will share her horizontal axis
while I chart her perpendicularly
at just the right angles
someone who will smile acutely at my symmetry
or lack thereof
someone who can grow infinitely in her own direction
but will always come to me in the solitary moments
the singularities that define us