The Parallel Shadows of Logic Lane
I had three Oxford interviews;
The first, the evening I’d arrived,
They asked me why I’d had 4 schools;
How sin2x could be simplified.
In silent streets I came that night
To the parallels of Logic Lane.
A strange confusion wracked my mind
As shadowed raindrops stung my face.
In the next one, on the 3rd floor,
2 men with large moustaches asked
The odds of what could be won of
Some money hidden under a
Table I couldn’t see under, but
The other told me what he saw,
But I’d get £50 from the other
If I chose not to make a choice.
⅓ of us would get an offer.
Or we could cut ourselves in 3.
That night I slept for 8 hours.
I ate 600 calories.
At home I’d cried 46 tears,
Gasping for breath 24 times.
In the next months I would tally
Those numbers that measured my life,
Roll them up countless hills, frozen
And then divide them by despair
To try to find a solution.
The answer that was never there.
In the last one, on the 3rd day,
2 men who smelled like virgins both
Asked me to solve 2a+6b=4, a-4y=8;
An equation with 2 unknowns.
2 variables I could not find;
When I confused the number 6
With a b in my handwriting
One suggested that I change it.
The white-jumpered one asked me to
Define a Universal Law.
I said something that’s always true
At any time or spatial point.
So he asked whether that meant that
Him wearing a white jumper now
And here was a Universal
Law. I didn’t know. I still don’t,
But throughout those next months I searched
For some truth which held these threads in
This stainless shape of moments, falling
Away like scales on violins
Approaching infinite nothing,
Expanding in Euclidian streets,
Were we count parallel lines in
Seconds; symbols on paper sheets.
by Max Maher