Doesn’t frustrate – merely
sieves treasonous remnants
of dislocate reason randomly,
nearly no dramas evident
But it’s what you make of it – no
pay breaking a game set in aspic
so to speak, of faking salient
elements off a serving plate
When you’re so far off the pace
where the cookie crumbles don’t
matter a piece; for opportunity
you’re already way too late
© 17 December 2010, I. D. Carswell
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