As I ride the waves of a sine-cosine graph,
Then spiral out on to a tangent line,
And skip the asymptote to fall into a hole,
I'll feel that this discontinuity is removable,
But only when X=2.
Then I'll go home and hug my door,
Kiss the cement blocks I stand on,
Grab a protractor and framing square,
And reaffirm that you'll always be there,
With ninety degrees,
My Guardian Angle. |