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June 15, 2009, 3:28 a.m.

I believe in the religion of Science, the philosophy of Medicine. I believe in the ordered dance of an electron as he soft-shoes into a rousing p-orbital. I believe in the chair confirmation of Carbon and the infernal volatility of Magnesium when you slap that bitch across the face.

I believe in the consistency of punnet squares, the squirrelly underdog mentality of the recessive gene. Chance, she may be a dirty, dice-throwing whore popping her knuckles at the back of the percentage line, but she is still there, fast on paper. Give me an equation for this, this� Show me the solution set that led me to you.

I believe in compartmentalization, this splitting of the halves so that the whole may survive. Because I also believe in rapid-fire nose-kissing and can�t-catch-your-breath schoolgirl giggling. I believe that cuddling should be categorized as a full-contact sport with yearly conventions and free raglan t-shirts. I believe there should be trophies involved.

I also believe that mix-tapes and pilfered song lyrics will always make the best love letters. I believe that some stories are best told without the finicky temperament of modern language. I believe that some oral histories are best shared without words.

I believe in kissing. I believe in teeth. I believe in skin.

And so I ask that you come to my door, a knee-scraping sinner and wrest my control to the floor. Sew my halves together; follow the roadmaps etched into my thighs. Rest your open book upon my chest, and watch as I shove my hands deep into my pockets, digging for some scrap of a rational explanation. I will come up grasping, bare-fisted, with decryption code carved into my palms. You will push your truth hard against my dare; my eyes will turn to the skies for an explanation. My X, she will slam into your Y on the nearest side of the parallel lines while a question�s constant wavers on the furthest. I will divide my halves by your whole. I will splinter. I will spill.

Flash. Bang. Pow.

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