Friday 2 September 2011

A Wee Poem: Archimedes' Principle

I was sitting in his seat.
He stood there, right next to me.
Looking at me.
Then he turned round.
All I could see was his back,
huge and straight, then
his knees began to bend.
I moved
just in time as
his arse hit the place
that was his by right.
'Well played, that man,' he said,
patting his pockets
as if he was trying to find something.

Am I a coward?
The Greeks have a word for it:
It's not rocket science
or physics of any other kind;
everyone knows
Archimedes is a bit of a gangster.

He showed me his gun once.

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