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Thursday
February 6, 2014
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There's something almost perverse about playing solitaire in "paradise."
Shouldn't I be out snorkeling at night, climbing trees by moonlight, or signing
online petitions at the very least? But, no, instead I beat my head against the wall
for five hours, wanting just one lousy win at a game where the cards were stacked against me.
I blame myself. Alcohol got the better of me at the end, but at least I wrote some poems of open-ended specificity...
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i'm learning
all the different ways
you can lose

the blowout
is easiest

it's the scrapers
that hurt most

you come
from behind

only to have
the final two cards
transposed

you're supposed
to win one
once in a while

but not tonight
5 hours down
with nothing
on the upside
6 to ace
that's even
odds at least

a lot of red
            face up
no simple pattern
everyone digs
with the shovel
they're given

red five?
you're out of line
the numbers
don't matter
where they're not
               wanted

but all of a sudden
hole is forgotten

hope builds like
the rungs of a ladder
growing taller
by the second

everything
was going
       so good

until the last
low spade
       you needed

popped up under
the card it
       preceded
no mob has a name
this one came
              rushing

evenly mixed
black and red
numbers and faces

no telling which
would disappoint you
                         next

after a time
you learn to burn
more quietly

the pain
you couldn't stand
yesterday quickly
                slips away

somewhere
the one you want
the ones w/ beautiful
               shining eyes

full of life
are hiding
uncovered too late
lovers too shy