eleven meant more at your thirty-one,
but i thought we could be anyhow.
Starbucks coffee and the forty-ninth state
were less trivial somehow;
art projects and differentiation
had new meaning somehow.
your baseball caps and weird banana hate
were endearing somehow.
and yes, my big, giant crush was stupid;
you asked, “Why?” anyhow.
and then we had to go:
split this singlet to a triplet.
couldn’t cross your mind and change it.
was an intersystem crossing
when my psyche was impaired—
was an intersystem crossing
‘cause we had to be unpaired.
eleven means less when i’m thirty-one,
or it should matter little by now.
i know a quaint cafe in Washington state
where i would take you now.
tattoos and cats and medication
give life meaning now.
you’re in a nearby vibrational state—
just close enough to overlap now.
and if we can couple our spin-orbit,
the transition’s not forbidden now.
and now i wanna know:
can this triplet be a singlet?
can i cross your mind and change it?
it’s an intersystem crossing
when my mind has been repaired—
it’s an intersystem crossing
‘cause we might make a good pair.
if you’re still alone in your orbital
now that we’re both professionals…
then can you let me know:
could this triplet be a singlet
if i’ve crossed your mind and changed it?
it’s an intersystem crossing
with our minds and hearts prepared—
it’s an intersystem crossing
spin flip, relax, and be paired.