Maths Party

A maths party somewhere near
A very famous university

"The Euler-Mascheroni constant
Is only one percent removed from the inverse
Of the square root of three
Dont you think thats ... "

Pompous twat
"I think i need the lou excuse me "
I turn
Im free

Across a vacant space
Our eyes meet like cat people
Through a wall of fire
Barbed like the humming of 10 million volts
Hairs, everything stand on end
She says
"I dont know you, you look like you dont belong here "

"I know a bit about maths
I'm an artist"

She laughs a smile to melt a man like liquid glass
And leave him in a globule glued to paquet flooring
With dark hair driving downward the way that ravens dive
Figure simple as a lily
And eyes that slip or spill the course of rolling ships
Maybe to draw them to the exotica of pressured deeps
Close held in silk for show
The sheen and perfect perfumed witch enameled
Like a broach

I start corny
It's always good for a laugh

" For instance thats a lovely number you've got on
But heres a real maths secret from an artist
You must never tell"

She looks wary
I whisper her anyway

" All artists know that the
The lovliness of a figure
Especially the hourglass figure
Is best appreciated without clothes"

I tilt my glass and am about to walk away
As my previous combatant is dubious of my leave

"Is that your only secret ?"

Older hens flock to the painted bird
Presumably assuming I must be about
To batter her with my larger

"Are you alright there Xxxxxx ??"

A polite excuse me but I'm interested glance
(With hinsight not unlike the ... in Zoolander)
I reckon I'm so cocky and so cool
And I'm off to find the lou

She moves across the bedroom
Dissolving airborn smells

"what do you do in maths anyway "
I ask inconsequentially

"I'm an undergraduate with Dr Pompous-Twat
He keeps me in a cot and feeds me Riemann Sums"

And in pillow talk one morning she
Playing with my lobes confides

"The Euler-Mascheroni constant
Is only one percent removed from the inverse
Of the square root of three
Dont you think thats ... "

The clawing ivy speeds up from the bed
An covers my soul like a dead willow
I scream but like the greek legend
I am already doomed