The edge found her, as angles go,
A skinny and acute one.
And so he met her at the corner,
After a quick and straight run.
But she turned out to be obtuse,
And didn't aim to please.
His love for her was more or less
A matter of degrees.
He turned around, bent out of shape,
And gave up on his whim.
For now it was a fact she was
Not the right angle for him.
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