My fifty people
Fifty people, that’s all I know
fifty people I care about
a community of my fifty people
at most fifty-two
I get up early, Laura calls me
She’s building a gizmolan
in other words, a Martian music instrument
It reads your face better than your partner does
It plays music rich in vitamins for the soul
She’s stuck with the strings
they don’t resonate
Oh no, is it a problem with the sensor?
I help her out
or I don’t
I don’t have a clue
It’s not the point to have a clue
She’s one of the fifty people
at most fifty-two
I get up late and visit Abhishek
We meet and meet and talk and talk
A sheet lies on the table between the two of us
He draws a curvy line intended to be straight
I know what he means and I finish it with a circle
We’re planning a gizmolanium
in other words, a gathering place for the Martians
Is it only talk and talk and plan and plan?
We do, possibly, what we do
He’s one of my fifty people
at most fifty-two
