The day was born to be as black
as Friday’s shopping spree.
He rushed and stalled, put on the rack
what's priceless – duty free.

I kept on waiting waded in
the task of crossing minds,
was out of it, but never mean
what should be next to grind.

A grating thought – to step aside
of riddling alphabets,
to take a look how senses tied
good wheezes in my head.

My bets – my pets, I tamed them well
as gibbets – tattlers’ tongues .
Unknowing where my heart should dwell
I lost it to the song.

With what was left I stacked the deck
and issued a decree,
“From now and on all Fridays – Black,
as love is – duty free.”

12 November 2009