Simulacrum

We start the evening with the trembling shadows of our faces on a maple Blackjack table
Hopes creviced between deft fingers like flowers in a stony yard
Heads upside down mirrored
I loosen my tie knot and let the anchors of stranded vessels
Rest on the seabed of excitement.
Here is the moment to unwrite time and compress it into a pack of rough cards
What remains in terms of minutes are the butts of cigarettes drowned in massive ashtrays
I recallthe narratives of your indecent proposal for no obvious reason
Or for every reason that brings the birds back to their nest in the wrong season
The afternoons were long enough for us to delight in shredded truth
We listened to Kenny Wheeler’s Kind Folk
And sought refuge inThe Original Oak where every option seemed not to work
Against your will and my good intention
I must stay focused,resolute and look askance at those who are taking me for granted
I will face my destiny with flipped aces and with thefatal thud of a frantic dice amidst heated tension
I cajole you for your persistence in every conversation
You read my mind and turn the chapters of my heroism futile
Languishing processes of inverted recognition stripping me of my intent
You delight in romance in an awkward setting, and I seem surprised by your success
They cannot read my numbers; they cannot count the days left unmarked
And emptied of any decision long forsaken.
I may win, I may lose—where is the difference?
Here the moment loses its edge and sags under the heavy showers of a darkened vision
I am not at this table to trade my name for merciful looks
I am responsible, a man whose nerves are of steel
My feet sink in ice and I keep the heat of the game at its highest
I walked the streets of misery alone
And navigated the waters of pain as no seafarer had done before
I can decipher the old maps your spectral doublemisreads as Alice’s wonderland
With each hasty claim, I prove her forever mistaken.