On a summer evening when the sun
has quit and the air is cooled, I enjoy a glass
of Port and stimulating conversation
with a thoughtful and well-informed raconteur,
a tricky exchange of views
with my intellectual equal,
a Port and challenging game of strategy
with a like-minded schemer.
Deep in the night ideas ricochet
around the room like insects
on the screen, no insect too small,
no fantasy too cosmic, I pour another glass,
get in touch with my inner fence post,
deal another solitaire.
The tricky exchange goes on till dawn.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
My Deal
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6 comments:
I could almost wish that I shared your "There".
Sometimes I talk to myself, too. Great poem!
Wonderful! I feel a glass of port coming on.
I was talking to myself just outside the back door yesterday when I realized the next door neighbors were in their garden, probably listening. I stopped of course, then thought what the hell they probably think I have company.
Enjoyed your poem.
it sounds like a relaxing evening.
:)
it sounds like a relaxing evening.
:)
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