“There are eight sides to every argument,”
she said while sliding through a four-way stop.
But I’m a programmer, paid to think in ones and zeroes,
ons and offs, trues and false, though I see her point
as the car stops spinning and she accepts the direction
of chance. At this time of night we’re alone on the road,
in a shades of grey world— white snow, black ice
and muddled slush.
As the winter sky rotates above us. I try to impress
her with my astronomy, naming the cold sharpened stars
of the Winter Hexagon— Sirius, Rigel, Aldebaran,
Capella, Castor, Pollux and Procyon. “Even the bees,”
she reminds me, “know better than to put seven sides
on a honeycomb.”
(For this week’s Living Poetry Prompt. Title stolen from J. Michael Straczinski’s Babylon 5.)
Bartholomew Barker, Poet 
Nice!
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Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it would work or not. I’m still not sure.
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You made me count and I learned a bit about programming and astronomy. Count this one as an interesting piece with a clever ending.
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Thanks. Glad I brought a little arithmetic into your life.
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Those bees know what they’re doing. ;)
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Millions of little buzzing minds can’t be wrong.
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