Monday, April 22, 2013

Mediocre Gambler Blues

I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bazaar,
And fortune has been kinder than I’ve realized or acknowledged.
It was not my aspiration when I sort-of went to college,
But I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bizarre.
I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bazaar:
A hustler at a bingo parlor really shows them how;
And a patsy in Las Vegas would have bottomed out by now;
But I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bazaar.
My poetry is crumpled dollar bills at break of day.
My lesson plans are Instant Breakfast in a pewter stein.
I tread the boards but once a week, and then I draw my pay.
My students hear a voice that I just know cannot be mine.
The holy souls who know me best are much too far away.
My brain's a ball of oil paint - my blood is turpentine.
You knew it when you met me: (If you’re who I think you are…
I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bazaar.

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