Jokers and Aces (A Poem)

Except when I use an American dollar bill –

What else is it really good for? –

I use jokers and aces as bookmarks,

Counting off the pages, the ideas, the ranting observations;

Jokers cutting page after page of mad reality

Set down by poets:  Wordsworth. Purdy. Blake. Solie.

The Ace of Spades walking with me among the philosophers:

Spinoza. Neitzche. Wittgenstein. Dewey.

And I wryly consider what Lemmy made of some of this stuff.

He died about a year ago.  Most of the others died before.

Lemmy’s gravel-voiced, call-a-Spade-an-Ace-of-Spades philosophy was

I don’t share your greed. I don’t want to live forever.

With a bullet belt and Fast Eddie’s poncho, I’m irremediably reminded of

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly and thence to Heidegger; an immortal Stratocaster line

Shredding like a Barebones FZX750 searching for another gear.

Shut up, you talk too loud.






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