World Cup

Behold, the chalice of fortune and fate
Whose gilded flair we leave too late
To bear the tears from solemn gates
Of lost time and chores, I promulgate:

The last season’s wings have flown
Though your vision eats up my nights
I claim only what is now not my own
But what stole my dreams when it left my sight

Your name my mind can only spell
When time forgets to remember
Your songs and tales and chimes and bells
That drew me into a trap so tender

I wonder still if I have a place
In your own world, your privacy
Or have I now faded into space
And not at all, trouble your sleep

My words, I know, are poor deciphers
Of your mysteries and unknown causes
But they are not here as vicious vipers
But as a serene sound between the pauses

The veil now shrouds this dire scene
I don’t know what unfolded or is to come to fruition
But speculation has often been my sin
So I’ll withhold comments and claim no commission

It was a lugubrious song and dance
Where money was lost when you were found
The price paid was for some hypnotic trance
I threw my anchor in a well and drowned

Well you buried my glasses deep in the sand
As we strolled the desert digging up conversation clauses
And I thought to even ask for your hand
When I should have asked for the patron saint of lost causes

It reminded me of Reagan’s last stand
When you drew up your plans for me to see
That kind of deal was hard to reprimand
At a time when I felt too high to disagree

But surely my morning’s star had taken turns
To cheer you up when your flight had crashed down
Some kind of fire in your heart must have burned
Before the masks we put on started pulling frowns

I sent you postcards from the trenches
And you rebuffed them with your low self-esteem
Though my struggles were relentless
Your own, I couldn’t win

It was my carnival, bright and festive
Before you let me into your guarded towers
With problems and struggles so domestic
My aspirations dried up before they could even flower

Well there is no point to ruminate now
These were times before the sunlight broke
And the metaphysical showers had rained down
To reveal the underlying joke

There’s no meanness or misunderstanding
Time’s clarity is the pillow where my head rests
Even if my complaints had any leg still standing
It would take little away from your magnificent breasts.

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