There was never
A line so straight
That man could agree
Set the standard
For his gauge
Of imagined perfection
Which barely
Comes close
To this fact

How curves
Determine our shape
No matter what form
We establish
When the course
Ideally realized
Has revealed
Such flaws
On its own

With deliberate lies
Made flesh
By defining twists
Along edges
And bending rules
Uncertain
Through repeating
Turns
Towards death

While we veer
Too far off-road
Where our failure
Sits like treasure
Taking detours
Through these circles
Which establish
Bumps
As fate

That trail each wreck
Left crashed
Along those paths
Unsteady
From wayward tracks
Imprinted
Long before
All lives
Had wheels.

– J. Pigno