The Topological Twist

by Lee A. Hart

It used to be the Bottom's Up,
Just one flight down from the heat.
The best booth had a window
With a worm's eye view of the street.
Alas, it soon went bankrupt,
But it will not be missed.
For now it has re-opened as
The Topological Twist.

To enter through the doorway,
You have to pass this test.
You can't take off your jacket,
But must remove your vest.
Your host will frown his welcome;
"His smile", the bouncer hissed.
He has a rare condition called
The Topological Twist.

Now order old Klein's bottle,
The one with no inside.
It's free if you can pour your own,
Though many men have tried.
The barmaid pours a glass for you
With such an agile wrist,
The drink is known around here as
The Topological Twist.

Let's hit that crazy dance floor,
And dance the Möbius craze.
Wait! How'd we reach the ceiling?
(Won't Escher be amazed).
Your left foot climbs the stairway,
My right foot goes like this.
It's easy when you're doing
The Topological Twist.

Your inner ear's still spinning.
Your eyes have flipped their lid.
Your mind says it can't happen.
Your senses say it did.
You'll never see its likes again.
It really can't be missed.
So yesterday I'll meet you at
The Topological Twist!

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This silly little ditty was composed late one night around 1984 with Cary Cornett. He was a fun guy, and an amateur musician. He even composed music for it (which I've completely forgotten). The "twist" is that the Topological Twist is the name of a bar, a puzzle, a disease, a drink, a dance... and the poem!

Image © 2020 by Cecile Cloutier. It started with a photograph of a real bar. Look for the "easter eggs" scattered about in it.

Lee A. Hart