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Is there any bigger ask than the exact?
I hope to live in approximation nation,
my days a seesaw with a burly boy
so often at the far end of the board.
Even the French suggest comme ci
comme ça, their words singing
a sense that things could swing in
any direction, that results await
a mere vowel away from another.
As badly as we hope to blame fate,
our lives might be exercises in signal
hoping to scratch a tune out of noise.