Triangles wrap circles
Around my leftover love making,
Pulling straight edges towards my heart
That I’ve never listened to before.
It’s like waking up to Lennon
Screaming “Can’t buy me love”
At 1251 am.
The half drunk love making hour
Where my triangles morph
Into sloppy elliptics;
A love making spot
My patterns can’t compute.
But that’s just alright,
Because triangles don’t roll
Like elliptics do.
And at 1251 am baby,
Everything’s filthy and groovy.