Poem

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When the numbers start to swim
shimmy inside excel cells
I firmly put them in their place:
make them what I think they are
should be
Then like puddles in the sun they change shape
Inexplicably
7’s now a 4, the 3’s where the 2 should be, 8’s gone astray
an extra nought has sidled in
and I just don’t understand how this can be
yet again
Sweating cold anxiety                                                   
 
It’s like a dance, a game, when the numbers swim:
me against them
Check..check…check again
Done. Happy. Accuracy reached.
Next day: rising horror that the numbers
have broke free
like spies in the night, their appearance now changed
Why don’t they work, like they did yesterday? 
What happened? Was it me? Again?!
Simple Simon strikes three
Another cold sweat

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