poem

 A Nice Game of Chess

It’s a game of chess, life.

We each get a square.

You’re my Queen.

You can do anything

But it’s a lawless game

Played according to strict tradition 

So it doesn’t even matter.

You do whatever you like

And we say, them’s the rules.

Everyone feigns

They forget how to play—

It's now two hands below the waist.

Pieces are recognizable but different.

Knights move in rococo Q's instead of L’s.

The bishops are huddled in conclave

In the corners getting ready

To release a plume of black smoke.

Kings pretend to be pawns

So they don’t get eaten.

There is no nuance 

When all the world

Is either black or white.

I play for a draw

Not because I’m a coward

I’m just bored with it, the game, all of it—

Somebody wins, somebody loses,

Blah blah blah.

I’m not interested in winning anymore

And losing just sucks. 

Stalemate is genius—

Backing yourself into a position

Of forced paralysis where 

You can’t even try to win

And it’s impossible to lose.

The best endgame is to draw

By threefold repetition.

I started it all,

Getting us into this configuration

But now it’s up to you.

You get to choose—

Either nobody wins

Or we keep dancing,

This same pointless pattern,

Check, check, check, check,

Just you and me

Trying to keep our game going 

For the rest of eternity

1/23/24