The Ball Is Yours Again

Making the break clean and leaving early was the 

scene I had in mind - lest there be distress; but if 

my fancy of what occasioned th’ inane lethargy’s 

even close to discomforting reality - the bet is off 

it would seem in my imagination their eyes are all 

on me, like they await revelation, or seemly gaffe 

which releases them from th’ bondage someone-

else imposed - I know it wasn’t me, I am assured 

by unabridged indifference - & I’ll hose-down any 

contrary intimations; but then - being here means 

I’m partly to blame - and there’s the quandary - it 

goes without saying - as if anyone feels the need

and yet the longer I dally the more they’ll play the 

Devil’s Advocate - their gamesmanship lacks any 

veridical form of subtle reality - even He wouldn’t 

wear it, without baring his teeth & belching aloud 

so I say to the crowd, we’re at an impasse which, 

believe it or not has nothing to do with what we’d 

originally gathered to resolve & yet you’re looking 

at me as if I’m cause of the unseemly checkmate 

the truth is we’re too late - the horse has bolted - 

it was never going to play by our rules anyway; in 

a sense it is great relief and in another, gratuitous 

opportunity, which we’ll need learn to appreciate 

so woe is me, indeed we painted th’ gate a good 

colour, but had little opportunity to fit the hinges 

it would need to swing free and true; so I’ll leave 

th’ way I came & without further interrupting you 

thus, adios compadres - the ball is yours again…  

© 2 January 2018, I. D. Carswell