Slam Poem #2

A practiced smile and then
Cracked the deck wide open, a flourish
He had practiced far to much
To have learned much else, or done much else
And fanned the cards in that maddening way
That I could never manage
Pick a card, of course, but I refused
And so the smile faded into sincerity
Pick a card, or I am lost
Pick a card, or I will have to wait
I have tried so hard not to disappoint
The experts I encounter in their shapely holes
But I'll not play this game again
I know the way it ends
I know it's not a trick, but something else
A way of forcing me to choose
When everything was chosen long before
So I refuse
And he is still here, fingers extended
In a misdirecting flare
Uncertain what to do when someone
Like me
Thinks he knows the secrets in the pass
And prefers not to be amazed
Nor charmed
Nor lead to bold conclusions about the power of the mind
I've tried so hard not to disappoint
The thought-leaders I encounter in their hard-bound volumes
But every game is old
And taught to them by others like them
Each to each
Requiring worshipful indifference and
Slavish ignorance
Perhaps if I were younger I would train my ears to hear them
But as it is I wrap myself in this protection:
I do not want to win
I will not pick a card
You will simply have to wait