There is a cavalcade of words
lined up behind the ivory sluice gate
patiently waiting to be spoken.
I’m comfortable resting
in the silence, though.
So we sit in the theater
nestled in the soft satin curtains
patiently awaiting the show.
Apprehension thick and choking
like smoke on the casino floor.
The lead actors are not known
for their prompt arrival.
Instead, renowned for the
way they weave words wantonly
debating, betraying, sharpening
accusations against
the whetstone of thoughtful supposition.
The audience watches in rapt attention
preparing rebuttals
footnotes cover the playbill margins.
This play is not a comedy of errors
but a contest of wills.
There are no winners.
Yet, every night, they return rejuvenated
freshly minted pitchforks at the ready
aiming the spotlights
at new loopholes.