one hundred years of solitaire
I am here
to count pigeons in the park
that makes
221 straight losses
but I just
can’t defeat myself, I know
Once in 1960
I won two straight games
without any
fast shuffles or sleights
It’s odd
that the odds are so against me
33 pigeons now
are seeking after crumbs
12 have wandered
off pure indifferent
isn’t that
just spud-wonderful?
Ducks on
the pond; another game lost
Only 13
cards moved up, 13 free pigeons
return to
gobble wobble over the walks
Clevenger
and I played Hearts, Spades, Rum
but when he
moved to Kokomo I had to switch
back to old
Sol and to my pigeon inventory
So it’s not
worth playing against myself
if I cheat myself
- it wouldn’t ever end
but make bad
worry and unrest on my mind
Enough bad
things in one short life happen
hidden
within my heart’s walls enclosed
without
adding trouble by petty conniving
Years roll human
and wildlife filled by
summer and
winter weather, strolls, echoes
me, my games
tatting along park seasons
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