(#23/34) On fragments.

Prompt: take playing cards and use them as inspiration/make a satire out of a famous poem. Satirizing the original satire, Casey at the Bat.

I have no playing cards here, I have nothing fun,
The room is rife of wonder, of avuncular puns,
My bedroom sits in quiet like the silence of the night,
The city sleeps restlessly, a dreamer in flight.

There’s a card from Robert on my shelf, though,
Three years before our strife and woe,
December 27th, 2007,
Three years before an ascent to heaven,

And, in succession, other losses as well,
My virginity to a woman to two years in hell,
My sense of academic superiority,
Our seniority, a short-lived horror to me,

Tragically of all,
The worst of my thoughts,
The man never knew that I could bend the law,
In such a fine contortion, defying all flaw.

It killed me the more I slept, deeper still,
To think anything less was as if I had killed,
Vice President and General Counsel now entombed,
Time had frozen while I had suddenly bloomed.

He says, go to Willamette, go to Oregon,
I said, I’ve been to Europe, I’ve already gone,
He says, walk into the Pacific, I’ve dipped only a toe,
Were it up to me I’d stand back and watch myself go.

“You are a very special person-“,
No- I am a very anonymous verse in
a poem we have read 100 years at a time,
There is nothing to it but calculated rhyme,

And in this section I play merely the fool,
Cast into a role that others have knew,
And played, and played out, quippy cards,
All that is left is the changing of the guard.

He left me a stone,
It grounds me to home,
To a planet,
Where we roam and we scan it,

The stone is worn flat from years on the water,
It rests in my palm, relaxed from the slaughter.
From reach to reach and town to town,
The laughter is abundant, the smiles wear no frowns,

The heads are clear and empty,
They mask no bitter sympathy,
I walk until my mind is clear,
For my world is dark and murky.


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