I had Jack last night
while he did it with Blaise Pascal.
Poor tired Jackman
betting all his Buddha-loot
on a trip he forgot to pack for.
As Jack succumbed to me
he put Pascal down
and he sighed
not from relief
but from grief
and he fell asleep.
His tired arms surround the quiet Blaise.
Two sleepy old men, a-dreamin, tete-a-tete.
To Kersade Poetry Index Plate
Anna Marie Kersade- American Poet
Copyright © 1991 by Anna Marie Kersade