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I put 0 and 0 together

And arrived at nothing.

Nothing was accomplished.

I had done it perfectly.

I made 0 disappear into 0.

I made sure nothing was left.

There was no doubt of it.


Next, I made 2 into two.

It was easy: numbers are words.

I made sure nothing was left.

I made sure nothing was said.

I made sure nothing was written.

It was getting complicated.


My thumb was black with ink.

So, everything I touched became

Itself plus me.

Every addition complicated it.

Every mark was a number.

Every number mocked.


I settled on the number one.

I refused all manner of addition.

I was careful to touch nothing.

“That’s impossible,” someone said.

I knew someone was right.

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