The Best Players Poem by Mark Heathcote

When does boredom set in?
And that niche heartache begins.
Who are the best player's women?
Or men in their hot cauldron.

Why are we paired with these couples
Where nails claw the blackboard at school.
Days conjoint; end in quarrels
These days, everyone is a freak or a ghoul.

The best players don't play by the rules
They aren't Sunday school girls
Or boys playing in cesspools
Furtively probing like squirrels.

No…
The best players are the make-do types
Who doesn't mind ladders in their tights
Or the schoolyard bully who cowers
on parade playing boy soldiers.

No…
Undoubtedly, the best players are liars.
Cheats and thieves
Who cheat themselves till no one leaves.