Victory Lapse
Victory lane has gone insane.
We’ve sold off our gold for spare parts
(and broken ecologists’ hearts).
The losers are spilling champagne.
The world is awhirl with false starts
(and watching the crash simply smarts).
Tentative Filer
All file cabinets look the same
to one in the shoveling game.
I was yanked off the mainland,
fitted with a tight armband,
told to alphabeticize
words I didn’t recognize.
If I worked for just an hour,
I could take an ice cold shower.
Then, they said, if I worked two,
they would let me sniff some glue.
Random order seemed to reign.
Boss wore masks and looked insane.
Papers filled up several rooms.
I was really zonked on fumes.
Next I knew a fire started.
In the smokescreen, I departed.
Found a boat and rowed to shore.
I don’t wanna file no more.
Automan Umpire
Big die. Small die.
Paper playing field.
No balls.
Sharpened pencils plot
solid strategy.
Behold the charts!
Numerical gods.
The roll and click
of recognition.
Snake eyes and
boxcars rule.
Another imaginary
victory
in the dream season.
