In confidence, at three-card Monte when I'd choose,
A complete mark, I found myself destined to lose.
Pulling rabbits out of hats I was just a twit;
As a rank amateur whose hand always got bit.
Many times, I stacked poker decks to force an Ace
But wound up, predictably, with red on my face.
Underneath shiny tin cups, I shuffled dry peas
But bumbled badly with high regularity.
"Predictable" my friends told me since I was ten
Because I lost so oft, even I said “Amen.”
Asked one time to saw a woman in half and then
To quickly put back her beauteous halves again.
Instead, I swept her up my arms, asking to wed;
Unpredictably, to me it was “yes,” she said.
12/04/2019
Categories:
three card monte, beauty, humorous, magic, success,
Form: Sonnet