Sober Game of Spades

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Once upon a time a wish to be granted…

A request to quell the static between the stations.

A bribe of blind faith…minus donations.

Elder statesmen and women, told me,

your folding money is no good in the halls.

They spoke of paying heed to the slogans that peppered the smoke-stained walls.

In a sober game of spades…the stillness of irony remains…

Why do bad things happen to good people?

I asked the priest…

he handed me a set of Latin verses set in gold leaf.

And, when I approached a sage…

he muttered something about…the wars we have waged.

And, when I visited my kin…

peyote blanketing the reservation…

there had been tales of the white man’s sin.

But…years ago, when the chips were handed down…

An old farmer spoke to me with little sound.


“20 years ago, a wildfire came and burned my last bridge.  That must have been when I was granted my first and last wish!”

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