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MY POETRY HOME — trespassers welcome
(Monday, April 17, 2002) It was the peak of The Pilgrimage when
I went to a seedy gambling house at
the town square where park boys
pay for the juke box and enjoy
all-night ecstasies with strip dancers.
It has a snooker table where
dandies in satin with lace cuffs
rub shoulders with shirtless
butcher boys; where ladies of
easy virtue care-freely bare and
swing their uncorseted bosoms
to the delight of debauchers.
I anonymously staggered in and
pretended to be a preacher,
then talked to a buxom babe whose
hair was brown, brittle and wither'd
like November grass;
but she won't sit down at my table
because her own ragtag lover was
in there sitting at a dark corner table
watching all that transpired.
Over to another table I went therefore;
and I gambled there till every man's
fistful of hard currency notes became
mine by the laws of chance game.
Then I went out with the hit to carry
some vain airs, to brag about my superior
skills with the dice and coins.
But then came the ragtag man
holding a coin, and he swore
he could part me and my money.
Too proud to be challenged,
too greedy to be content,
I picked the dice and the coins,
then cast'd the lot but I lost.
Then more to my loss I cast'd
some lots over and again.
But all the time it was always
heads he wins, tails I lose;
until all my money was gone to
him and I had to go home a loser with
neither some pride nor a penny to my name.
© 2012, M-Auwal Gene III. All Rights Reserved
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