Thursday, September 10, 2009

Hobo's Cats

I don't think you are who you used to be
And certainly not who you think you are,
And, you know, I'm such a crud,
I'm no better than I was, myself!
Shall we just admit it
And play another game tomorrow
Or go on with this pretense?

My life's charade is running down,
May already be over, I fear,
While all the shadow chessmen move on or off the game board
And all these shallow disapproving smiles
Appear and disappear to me all night
Like a hobo's unfed cats...

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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)