Round Robin

July 16, 2005

Sensuality
curls itself into a ball
bouncing with a trajectory
that is almost--


predictable.

Not quite.

Intentions cull
into complications
blurring
what should have been
the yellow line of tresspass,
permitting
exceptions
until the game
cannot end anymore.


As it should.

The sidelines provide
infinite possibilities
contracted to X and O.
But the court has expanded
bringing in the I, the U,
the Y until--


there is only one play left.

Two coiled springs
about to launch
another futile round,


a proverbial whistle
raised over the din,
to signal the start
of--

voluntary surrender.



blue rogue