A member of my stalwart Wednesday evening badminton crew introduced me to fifty-cent slice night at a local pizzeria. I was reminded of a pizza poem I crafted circa 1998. I think it’s a metaphor, or something.
I ate a slice of it for lunch
I’d like to have some more
I can not get enough, you see
I am the pizza whore
To eat a slice is not a sin
To waste one is a crime
I think I ate too much today
I do it all the time
And if the oceans ceased to crash
And the sun did cease to rise
I’d sit back and gorge my huge fat ass
On a million pizza pies
Flying Mantra adapted parts of this ode into a song we affectionately called, “Serpentine”. Excerpt available here.
Dan Dreifort 
You gave Andrew Marvell a run for his poetical, metaphysical money.