Solitary Confinement 


Twelve thousand, sixty-four and counting,

But who's keeping score?

Eric Snider's got me tied up,

Addicted to the core.


I used to marvel at my Grandma,

'Cuz she knew so many solitaire games by heart.

She'd sit for hours and play them,

Wearing card decks out. 


Without TV or radio, she'd play the day away,

Waiting for the bread to bake, or friends to come and play.

Cards, her other passion, with laughter all around,

And serious competition, the best hand to be found.


Forty Thieves is misnamed, though it steals my time.

Fifty-two cards are played, stacked in line.

In a way that sucks you in, searching for that one-in-twelve time,

When they all fall in place, and you win the race.


To get them in place.

Before your brilliant strategy is blocked,

And you are rocked, but not defeated.

"One more time." 


When I think of the time I waste,

Playing Eric's game.

I could be using it for good,

Or fortune and fame.


Instead I sit, without wit,

And while away the hours.

Chasing the elusive Grail,

Of solitary powers.


None the wiser.


Copyright 1999 (c) Ronald W. Hull




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