Crossed by canals

As I reticulate my face with a frown

Its  lines   zig zag up and around

I imagine  how banal

My face  crossed by  these canals

The lipstick makes me look a clown


In the map of the city underground

The lines are all straight up and down

For the geography

Doesn’t matter for you see

We wish merely to travel around


Yet is that last line not a lie?

The Circle Line makes no  use of pi.

What to leave out

Causes great doubt

I wonder if architects cry.






I welcome comments and criticism

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