Impossible to Find

3 Isn't Even

Growing up,

Everything was even.

Everything was symmetrical.

I made mom get 8 plates,

Because 4 wasn't enough,

And if you split 6 into 2,

You get 3.

3 is not an even number.

My bedroom was set so that if you took a picture of both sides,

You could not tell the difference.

As a teen,

I needed to be even.

I needed to be symmetrical.

Doing my makeup was a struggle,

But after doing it over

And over

And over

It became habbit.

I was known for having the same mole,

On both sides of my face.

Little do they know,

One was drawn on to match the real one.

The one spec of imperfection,

I couldn't control.

Going out with friends was a pain.

Only in groups of 3, 7, or 9 to a movie,

So I'd have an even number of people on each side,

and to eat,

Only a group of 4 or 8

Not 6, because if you split 6 in 2

You get 3

3 is not an even number.

My favorite words,

Were the words like mom,

Dad,

Wow,

And racecar.

They were the same both forward and backwards.

When I wrote a paper,

All of my words were straight,

and they lined up perfectly with the margins.

You couldn't even see,

All the millions of eraser marks,

It took to get them that way.

Once I grew up,

I bought a house with 2 doors,

That way I'd have 2 doorknobs

Rather than one.

And when I got married,

I wore a ring on both hands.

We had 2 children,

4 years apart.

And although there were 4 of us,

I bought 8 plates,

Because 4 wasn't enough for guests,

And if you split 6 into 2,

You ended up with 3.

3 isn't an even number.