Once I dated a woman I only liked 43%,
so I only listened to 43% of what she said,
only told the truth 43% of the time,
and only kissed with 43% of my lips.

Some say you can't quantify desire, 
attaching a number to passion isn't right, 
the human heart doesn't work like that.
But for me it does. I walk down the street

and numbers appear on the foreheads
of the people I look at. In bars, it's worse.
With each drink, the numbers go up
until every woman in the joint has a blurry

eighty-something above her eyebrows, 
and the next day I can only remember 17%
of what actually happened. That's the problem
with booze—it screws with your math.