Sing Along With Carl

The complete rules
of all the necessary City games
are never fully realized, and
even as Man might draw close
the Game changes.

A man with an “after thought” has two thoughts…
(unless they’re too closely related, and then they
either may count as one all over again, or else
you can move on to Marvin Gardens, or one
of those other garish-colored addresses.)

I met one fellow
who had given his own life a name –
“Sing Along With Carl.”

(I trust you won’t be too upset
if I tell you that I know for a fact
that the man couldn’t carry a tune
in a pick up truck, and that
his name is not Carl.)

Humility up-dates from the untalented
are not all THAT eye-opening.

Late one evening over at the City college...
two professors were playing a chess-like, metaphorical board game and one stopped to light a cigar – I mean, incense – (“INCENSE”?...”Yes, Incense, I told you this was the sixties.”  “No you didn’t.”  “I most certainly did, and if you’re not going to listen I’ll just skip the story.”  “I do listen.”  “No you don’t.”  “I do…but I apologize anyway; finish the story.”  “Okay!”) and he said to his playing partner, “There was an all-too-soon-to-be-recalled king whose very blood and breath seemed nurtured by the chaos and slaughter of warfare, and just before he would ride into each new battle he would softly croon, (in the manner later made famous by several sixties soul singers), ‘Let me wrap you in my warm and tender wrath…’”

J