Shell Game

Does it, should it, will it ever end
This messing about
Humanity contemplating
its immeasureable self doubt
Groping, bitching
Never near enough or satisfied
An endless circular shakedown
lit from the history of art
Finding too often
all the lights turned out, a blank

This misadventure, turned
to a continuous shell game
Every goal seductive, winked at
changed and rearranged
A turbanned, dark skinned slight of hand
skillful, lightning quick
Happiness is there
Love beneath the middle shell, then gone
promised once again, always grinning
The deftness unexplained

Move the camera back
Pull me from neediness, unstack the deck
haul away the media fix
lower the flag, stop all the push and pull
of expectation, the hanging in there
catching up and falling back
Resolve me to another
less troubled and simpler tribal culture
All babies valued, held and breast fed
by any mother who's got milk

Hide away my lostness there
where all skin touches skin
Believing in another god
worshipful of sun and rain and wind
I need the black majesty of night
to cover me, aflame with stars
Await each dawn without appointment
smell the smell of dust rising
A whole community of eyes
that find my soul and nod agreement

My dinner table groans with choice
I'm overstuffed and starving
Too little nourishment, too much wine
I beg to call the check
pay the bill no matter what the price
leave a tip and run
Provisioned, where the linen isn't starched
Taste a simpler fare
devoid of crystal, no expensive silverware
A more communal meal