Pi survives as Archimedes' constant
irrationally numbered accountant.
Impermanence marks Pi, his days, numbered;
marked, as only a marked man, encumbered
persistently by innumerable,
endless debts he finds insuperable,
remuneration never wipes the slate
markedly clean, residue marks the date,
anguish never subsides, a vacation
never feels like he leaves his workstation,
ergonomic and efficient, his chair
needlessly follows him, while solitaire
consoles his disconsolate wife, she plays
endless games over his grave, where he lays.
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