Mal Webb Pi
3am upon a mattress sees the hands approach a figure so significant
Converging on a curve
But she's not your standard deviant 'cos our bizarre love polygon has morphed into
The fractal shape of lurve
As we share in a dim sim, a tree will shade our flirty lip tickle
I trip on the square root of minus one
Though pi's not so oblique a thing, with a pencil, pin and piece of string
That old familiar ring can soon be wrung
Just measure your way around the circumference of any circle
Then divide it by its diameter and thence, find it lurking
In the work you would do defining it's true sense of infinity
Your digits touch the sky with pi.....
A fraction of her is not the answer, like a statue's not a dancer
She's a whirling dervish dining on red cordial and twisties
You may insist she's difficult, but don't dither as you slither down that river to forever
To quiver in the endless Rumba, sleeping ceaseless slumber
'Cos it's then she has your number
I think people who like pi are cute
Their lives are full, they have a ball
So people who hate pi are square and flat
As a tan gent who co-signs obtusely into sex at random
The right angles formulaic lines attract
