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SOLITAIRE
This game did not yield
multiple personality excuses
to an only child whose misery
did not love company
Shuffling the cards incessantly
in the desperate hope that chaotic silenced emotions
could be so easily tamed
Masterful acrobatic digits had cards tumbling
smoothing furrowed brows with semblances of control
via accelerated snapping arcs that rose and fell
Knowing any real control popped like bubbles
prophetically leaving you with a wet sticky mess
Smooth textures belied its rough edges as you methodically
thwap each card down in military precision
Smirks linger for each and every slap of triumph
eradicating for mere moments ignorance’s smackdowns
Bittersweet irony for a girl perpetually thumbing
her nose at empty authority
to mark Kings to serfs in an unforgiving lineup
Only in this game do victory and failure have fleeting tastes
So comfortably addicted to effortless do-overs
leaving only the question of why we yearn
to continually reenact our futilities
morphing a haven into nothing but a hamster’s wheel
