#521
Philosophers say you can’t prove
That two balls in a game of pool,
One struck by the other, will move —
That there’s no reliable rule.
There’s no assurance that today
What happened every time before
Will be repeated any more,
Just because it’s always that way.
I have to ask, how could they know?
Birds in flight could drop like rocks.
In a heat wave we could have snow.
Mountains could fall like building blocks.
My left ankle could turn to wood.
I’ll take my “will” over their “could.”
#522
Not pool, a game of billiards:
A ball struck a ball, two rails,
And another ball kissed —
Then money changed hands.
The fool stares at the chalky bed
Where his future sleeps.
Two men rub their ears,
Hunched beneath vague hats;
Elbows banging the table,
They want their cold beers.
A thief with a glass weeps,
Overhearing old lovers;
When he has downed his gin
The murdering will begin.
My book of the first 200 of these sonnets is now available for purchase. Click here:
