Pie Are Round

 

I wanted to use perpendicular,

But settled for hypotenuse. I know.

Euclid is an old street in my home town

And Archimedes was a wry old owl.

This didn't help much, not in plane or solid,

Distinguishing which was my chef d'oeuvre. Right?

Jump cut to way back. You know Archimedes

Was slain, yes, whacked, while doodling in the sand.

Slow fade to years uncome. I cannot add

Quaint quiddities to peonies and mums,

Just so a sonnet seems to terpsichore.

I tried fried pi. Oh, it went on and on,

And never, like me, proceeded to conclusion.

Crisps for dessert. I am too square for pie.