Random Foursome Poem by Max Reif
Random Foursome
Just a little while ago,
that bald African-American
who's sitting at the window booth,
that young, unshaven fellow
with the earring and the cap,
that silver-haired Caucasian
daydreaming in his polo shirt
and I, were congregated,
quite by chance
around the coke machine.
'How 'bout a game of golf? '
I could have said,
though of course, they would
have thought me mad.
What are the odds the four of us
will ever meet up anywhere again?
Life keeps mixing us around
much more than we realize —
atoms in perpetual flux,
marbles in a divine game.
This is a great piece, playing with ideas and examining words /terminology. The concept is a brilliant one four strangers playing golf; but hey, who says strangers. I like that level of ambivalence which finds a denouement in the last line.
I love that last line - like marbles in a divine game. It really pulls the whole poem together, showing how quickly our lives change, and at God's will.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 10:04:31 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Enjoyed the whole poem but the last lines are the creme de la creme.... TO