(I) Love (Science) Poem

w/ a tire you add
to a motor
some tension
makes a spire where
things--

tender parabola
inverses and
I tend a parabola too
your bottom
lip.

there's such trickle
some sun--
not ours--
as dark as yellow
can go
animal almost.

you said something of tax
to the center of cities
to your brother
for incentive to
privately produce iron
beams
true tested
(sweat) across
my forehead you
don't
seem to notice
or mind.

imagine this world
class structure where
everything's of carbon
date me.