image by Neal Adams, in DC Deadman #5
“Life is fair. We all get the same nine month shake
in the box, & then the dice roll.”--Stephen King.
me: I say it is a fair day to talk to no one.
deadman: Not fair, sir, for I am, or was, or will be someone.
me: Are you saying that the winds are truly fair for a wet
journey of wistful words?
deadman: A cheater never wins; now that is cosmic fair.
me: That’s a fair cop, as my Guinness mates would say.
deadman: In Old English, it be “Faeger”,
me: In Norwegian it was “Vakker”.
deadman: Pleasing, attractive, sexy?
me: No, beautiful, stunning, alluring, with fair hair & complexion.
deadman: I think that it would be fair to say I knew the slut.
me: Now, play fair; rancor is beyond the realm of fairness.
deadman: In Old French it was surely “Feire”.
me: In ancient Rome twas once “Feria”.
deadman: Fairly said, fair enough for government speak--yes
your piddling research resides fair-to-middling,
me: Are you disrespecting my fair name?
deadman: I think that sometimes it is only fair to take a fucking
without a furious fuss.
me: Do you fuck me, sir?
deadman: Buttkus it be, is it Germanic?
me: Now you would take a foul ball & call it fair?
deadman: It is said of you that you’ve raised three fair daughters.
me: So we digress, yes, & I say to you that it required
a fair amount of patience, being a stepfather.
deadman: In all fairness I inquire, did your lovelies ever conspire
to rid their lives of you for fair?
me: Fairly crass I wager, therefore none of your affair.
deadman: It was you, young sir, that started this dialogue,
not me--so fair’s fair.
me: Says you, a mere geek at the Fair, says nobody.
deadman: I do fear that you drag my fair will throw the small
hole in an oaken fair-lead.
me: Surely, you are not so deluded as to consider yourself
deadman: Only on Thursdays at high noon in the Shetlands
while in a pub on Fair Isle.
me: Your ragged response cuts me like a short jab caught
fair in my gut.
deadman: My death certificate allows me license to consider
such as you fair game.
me: And so Jehovah said in Gaza to the Israelites, play
fair my children.
deadman: Your biblical reference conjures fair resentment.
me: You drive my balls to the fairway then?
deadman: Why not, tis fair green not a bramble bush.
me: I tell you, your jibes pass over my flesh fairing like a soft
breeze; barely registering contact.
deadman: Do you admit then that this fair exchange of views
& barbed verbiage lies well with you?
me: Only on Thursdays at 3 a.m. at the fairgrounds in Fairbanks.
deadman: Do you really consider this fair play?
me: Are you are fetching member of the fair sex?
deadman: I must say that you do have a fair edge to your
acerbic wit, sir.
me: A fair catch, boyo. I will leave it at that, your point.
deadman: Then you wish to be rid of me for fair.
me: Not really, I am just anxious to attend the Washington
State Fair. I adore the pig races & the fat elephant ears
dripping with cinnamon & hot butter.
deadman: Is it a fair assumption to consider that we may
converse again on another day?
me: Yes, tis fair to say, to consider, to relish, to look forward to.
deadman: Excellent--that makes me fairly pleased to hear it.
me: Good, then it is fairly glad I be as I take my leave.
deadman: Fair farewell.
Posted over on dVerse Poets MTB
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