i tried: poems from a lost soul

Playing Cards

Playing cards
Poker cards
A deck, a pack, a stack of cards
Whatever. Cards. You know what type.

They sit
Tightly bound in a clear plastic case
Bound by rubber bands
Stretched taut.
Where is the original clasp? I wonder
Ah. The case is cracked. Now I see.

Under a bright yellow sun
The joker smiles at me
Unblinking.
He rides, dressed like a king
On a bicycle. How bizzare.
How bizzare, yet no more bizzare
Than jesters dressed like ministers
Riding in big black cars.

«Enfin c'est tout une blague,» il me dit
«Ne sois pas si sérieuse.»
Moi? J'ai dit. Oui, il m'a dit. Toi.
Bon alors.
Assuming x as an element of U
And s being a subset of y,
Where does that leave us?
(It's a good question.
I'll get back to you on that
In four to five business days.)

Waiting to be played
By a pair of invisible hand
Large. Calloused. Irrefutable.
They shuffle me around.
For a brief moment
I fly through the air
An elegant arc.
Then I am back on Earth
In His hands again.
Split in half.
Moved from thise place to that
In motion
Always.
Samba. Foxtrot. Tango.
A leap, a twirl, a turn.
There is no greater joy in life, He professes
Than this dance.

Pick a card, he says
Which card? I ask
Any card, he said.
Life is but a game of Russian roulette
Predetermined. I already knew
Which card you were gonna pick anyway, he says
I picked it for you.
The magician frowns. A pause.
Forget I said that, he says
Just look at me. Watch the clock
Hands strike twelve.
Yes... Very good. Forget I was here at all.

A puff of smoke.
There's a case in my hand.
I look down
Smile at my friend:
"Wanna play a game of cards?"