The Statistician Poem by Raj Dronamraju

I may have a weakness but you will never find it
We will both sit here in an uncomfortable manner, high-backed dining room chairs and shifting posture
Arms and legs, awareness of such and not a clue where to put them

I may have a weakness but I will never let you see it
Instead I'll pull my scalp and forehead down until they meet my chin
Like a Native American scalphunter takes his payback and disappears back into the desert

Penny for the thoughts of the left-brained lover
The side that makes you irresponsible and imaginative
And prevents the totaling up of expected milestones

So am accepting of the role as hatchet face, nonplussed by serious numbers
The match is on but was not aware of any competition
I assumed the burden without a second thought but with an accounting of sorts

An awareness of columns and ratios and percentages
The heart is separated from all that, it has no quantitative measurement
The heart is like a dish prepared by a cook who knows the ingredient amounts by touch
He doesn't need a cookbook - Just feels by a pinch or a fistful