Getting in the Game

For days
he watched
the water taxis
come and go
across the shallow bay.

Life was
like chess,
he thought.

Each possibility
precluded
many others
until few
options
remained.

Finally, he
set out
In his own
leaky vessel.

Landing on
the far shore
and finding the trains
not running

he spent his days
walking the streets,
buying art in back alleys,
eating like a high caste mandarin

and watching
Chinese lap dances
for the dead.

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2 responses to “Getting in the Game

  1. This is a curious poem; it’s strangely arresting.

    Like

    • Thanks john. This was one of those poems where two ideas formed a “monstrous alliance” as William stafford would say. I’ll take “strangely arresting” any day.

      Like

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