I laughed but it was a little out of control,
those cards, the first that came back to me.
I had but one, adrift in a world.
I did not notice, and was stung by an
announcement of scotch.
It happened and then again, I will slip
away as the mist, a fog that lifts.
I see it now as never before.
Now it is gone again.
But the laughter stops the table, the edge.
Friends vow to recharge.
And then will all be even.
Now we deal but seven,
and then the battle.
I said outside, never mind the single card.
But to pounce, to rend late in the day.
Others have the hand.
Then will make believe it was okay,
out of sorts.
But silent now, and hilarious.
Outside of me it's another way.
Inside, yards of cards sting in silence,
tears flow - shocked by the Ace.
Who knew the payback that trumpets
It's not that serious - cards.
© 2012 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.