Everytime I play Patience
on this computer
I miss the Queen of Hearts
everytime I try to bluff at poker
I re-deuce the gambler in me
when I attempt a leap of faith
I end up, face first, in a pile of disgust
'cause jumping like an idiot only
fits those who trust the dust
I could have owned a business
but felt the need to stay astray
I could have been my parents'dream
instead I chose my ways
and if some son of a bitch
might have thought
I'd be good at sports
his disappointment would be
paramount
some people have the power of influence
others let you cold
many steer away from us
a few grow on you like mould
I guess that on the whole
I have but few regrets
one, certainly must be
the scorn of being so small
otherwise I could have grown to be
what was expected
rather then spend my time
sitting here, at this machine,
alone and in the dark
with my intolerance
and a deck
of stale old cards.
Want to review or comment on this poem?
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Reviews of "The drunken hazard of being up so late"
What are you doing with a pack of cards when the computer has all the games you could ever want, hell, I think I have not played solitaire other than on the puter for an easy 10 years...I enjoy being up late too, specially when I do so high...ed
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
This collection of poetry addresses the nature of time, reflections on the natural world, the difficulty of loss,
contemporary social issues and gratitude for life.
Be always safe,
Karen
of being small with the pen (or your putermajig).
I like the way you write.