Poets' Practice Pad

I Remain a Square

I draw my thoughts
in fractured lines,
dribbling away accordion hopes
and parallel passions,
my sense of context
alarmed at my circling
around the circumference
of the same hardnosed code
without penetrating
to its center,
maybe, because I am a square,
though without right angles,
and I use tactical patterns
trying to fit inside your cylinder.

Since bewildered by solid forms,
cubes, spheres, or pyramids,
it might serve me well
to remain within two dimensions
and circle around life's triangles
with other squares.

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