i can't hold on to the pieces. days slide out of my hands like slick new playing cards and i watch the ones i want... kings, jacks, nines... slip away with all the twos an threes. there are slippery little slices of my past on the floor, all around me. it's too late to pick them up and all i can do is try to not let any more fall through my fingers.
sounds in my head tell me to go, go and their faces circle around the table, anxious for me to deal.
2 comments:
my cards play themselves and I'm their witness(--who should I sign in as)
No, just hoping for the warmth of your friendship is all. I'm out--busted. Close the bet. My chair is freed up. Didn't mean to push the table and spill your drink.
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