Neither clever nor rich
I am a simple man
and when misfortune plays its balalaika
I dance, for what else is there to do?
No, though dancing neither shortens
nor prolongs the noisome song
I, I would all days
rather dance than weep.
Truth is much like a dance.
May I have this one?
Change partners, dozy do
(pray undo this cummerbund) .
and Life, Life's a bouquet
of field flowers
artfully arranged, now undone,
now drawn to different stars.
I play no chess with Death
but poker, rather, a simpler pursuit
and more dependent, way, on luck-
so far it's worked out well,
Luck a better foil, you see,
than skill, and at chess
Death is always the winner-
nobody matches his moves.
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Comments about this poem (Neither by Morgan Michaels )
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