Mathematics is not a language but a place
The setting where I work
As principal of the School of Practical Amazement
Where every pupil meets their special needs
Many first arrived after desperate sex when
The mothers of invention
Joining the fathers of necessity
Birthed children of frivolity
Their grandparents thought them too foolish to be born
They’re still wrong
Students compete to build joyful chaos
Class prizes awarded in play units
Infinitely divisible but never smaller
Today one made heaven from a grain of sand
We spiced it with anise and tried it for lunch
Soon she’ll peel pasta from oceans of waste
Perfect for permanent convenience salads
Beginners create new sports and toys
Intermediates progress to civilizations
Seniors churn out planets
Not all great, but fun to make
The failures recycled to stardust
Our best graduate to universe-making
A tough market since the lack of new dimensions
The unemployed dabble in cosmic jokes
I’ve too much work but great vacations
Visit Imaginary Cities which self-build in seconds
Pawnshops turn palaces
Nuclear fuel dumps recast as Art Galleries
Cooking zero calorie feasts for the eye
I love this job more than sex
But yearn for routine time-travel
I’ll copy myself so I can retire
Become a play-writing sheriff in a small western town
Every saloon a six star restaurant
Why can’t others live like this?