Burn the midnight oil
Pythagoras had it wrong
Gita, where are you?
Don't think I won't
reach up up up
to shine light on the mathematical night.
Don't think I might
come out of nowhere
to be no one
from the past.
A problem with sets is one always leaves
The other
Stranded in infinity
An endless 3.14 or St. Louis
Photos from travels never taken
Never had
Sometimes she has to turn away and go
And that's how i see it
And oh, what i see!
The shape, the form
Seam stretching at the perfect center
A center that's dead center
At the helm of a great ship
A round ship
A ship of dreams
It ferries me to the land of plenty
Rides the waves so gracefully
And i watch
Watch this action
As the captain i can careen her to a soft harbor,
Swab her decks,
Harness the winds to fill her up
It overwhelms me
And then i'm back
Watching as she goes
Focused on the seam
The seam that sailed a thousand ships
Grandi's Rose
Rhodonea curves bloom,
A dozen makes two dozen petals.
This flower is for you.
Oh Gita
Sounds like the Peruvian I met
Who blew me away with her charms and
Bad breath.
Or was it Lolita
Who took me for a ride up and down
And round and round her rollercoaster
Until I threw up.
Or was it Rita
Cold on my lips
Turned my tongue pink
And orange like the contents of her
Cheese pretzel.
Or was it Rasheeda
Whose wave I floated on through
Her crimson tide.
And for that she thanks you
With all her red wings.
Coy treacherous Gita
You are my pill popping addiction
Your face is xeroxed across
The lost highways of my soul
You started as my pupil
And then you became my guide
Please teach me once again how to solve your problem set
And I will be the 360 degrees to your circle of love.
