The Real Geometric One...Not Too Much Math Poem by Bull Hawking

I'm the protractor of your degrees

overlying angles tight and loose

partly mostly you're always right

how i smile when you're acute

and lust when you're obtuse

you can reflex over me any day

do you ever play it straight?

I thought about your vertex

and the junction of your rays

how your angles are full of hue

how your hue has filled my days

is our standard deviation

closer to the mean?

or would my square root

fall within the margin of your error

I calculate the probability that

you can be probed with probity...of course

in the end i cull the calculations

and fall about your neck