The Tricky Kid Whose Rhythm was Arithmetic

 

Jason was into maths and music

And music that sounded like maths

And maths that moved like music

And it gave him an emotion

Like a sort of

Slow explosion

Those beeps and pulses and angular noises

Turquoise waves inside his chest

Endorphins fired by electronic voices

A nameless delight at this aural precision

This choral set of complicated decisions

He’d tilt his head at a geometric angle

To catch the wonder of the frequencies

Time signatures describing patterns in the air

Interweaving harmonies

In fibonacci sequences

He had no friends

Well. That’s not quite true

He had people whom he’d play the music to

And they listened because they liked our Jason

Even if they were intimidated by

the music he would play them

And they would have said, “Yeah,

Jason, he’s our mate.”

But it wasn’t a sentiment

The man of maths could reciprocate

To him they were subjects to be exposed

Living spreadsheets to be filled with notes

On his aural adventures in a complex equation

He’d give them questionnaires

About the music he’d just played them

With its algorithmic beats and 

Quadrilateral melodies

He'd drum his bony fingers on his perfectly

Aligned knees in complicated rhythm

A cacophony to all but him

He heard structure deep within

And didn’t care, when the others made their excuses

And left him

His eyes were fixed on things more pure

Sonic architecture, shrinking in infinite regression

Jason smiles, warm at the beauty of it all