Ideas about Probability
She asked if you were a gambling man Your answer was spittle and despondence The dew of glory and the dawn of ruin Gliding along the pores of your heavy chin At least you have leather at your finger tips Natural resources are precious to the desperate Materials unused, to be taken advantage of By the lost one, the one who lost And one who also did lose Is that you this time? Or the time after? Certainty can be an irritable companion I see you, you with the sagging gait Who would run away if you had energy Left, in reserve, stored, kept and saved But that isn't your style, cowboy, I know Your mistress left when you could no longer afford the pretty gifts Her curls are beyond tentative reach You would rather not think about your wife Not now, and don't plan on tomorrow neither And the baby you did not buy food for last week Even though you wanted to get the gall cuisine A minor indulgence agreed upon by the inner counsel Did you mean succulent? The whispers crawl from the telephone Why live in the past when the future stretches out before you go, and leave the car keys sweetie The baby burps a brief good-bye And the mother sighs like incipient gravel Strung along the driveway of the house she eyed Thinking of a family, the joker card endlessly fingered Wondering when you would drag yourself home All the while restraining the hopeless laughter Circulating like a swarm of insect modules created as an experiment in robotic Socialization Techniques Go ahead, laugh, tickle yourself underneath the arm Touch yourself because no one else will Certainly not the gambler with coarse hands and sappy lewdness emanating from the groin region He speaks in breaths, artillery aimed to fire You succinctly outline the importance of hygiene In your mind you routinely fondle the mundane Waking in the morning, the motions pass and you pass Everything passes by, without the supple direction Of the infant mind, the alien you must harness and shape into acceptance and love and kindness Holiness abounds when your vacant synapses Join those thoughts and feelings of scathing denial Progress What will you tell yourself when the gambler strolls Nearby, as if to visit and you shudder with despair And you shudder with anticipation as your mind says Turn, turn, turn Into my life again But the lizard is gaming himself With measured chances and inflated options This time he is playing to lose, the unlucky bastard With delusions of being two broad steps ahead There are no more arrows and stakes to shoot down The opponent laps up his luck like juice and poison Bathing in consequence, the defiant one lags Who indeed absconds with the ghost of absence and apt condescensionIndex