gioca!

i'll never encounter a life
so simple as a child's
game where when confronted
with an enemy, the rules will change
to allow my retro mind
to forget sifting
through merits and rather
focus on the task at hand
when, by chance, I come
across victory, in my hands
should I choose I would rather let the ball slip
through my hands and feign accident
or when by skill you have me
cornered and about to lose
the corner is no more, myself
with it, and am a triangulation
of our former points, at which point the game adds
a dimension
and leaves its plane in favor of my preemption
if only circumstance followed rules
of rhetoric then the order would never be necessary,
nor the pieces, merely the meaning
even the child knows
non ja vwoahlay vinchairay
even if the "educated" choose
to consider him naive
he's having too much fun.