I sit across from a man,
we look at each other
without shifting our heads,
it’s a staring contest
like the ones from lunch
in junior high school.

My opponent has no face
I am afraid he might win.
I try to picture him with
eyes, blinking, signifying
my victory, but I cannot.

He is tougher than to fall
for such trickery. He simply
sits there blankly, wearing
me to the point of exhaustion.
I rapidly throw my hands
above my head, screaming:

He has won! He has won!

I have no time for games
that are unfair towards me.
I run circles about the table
chanting silly rhymes and

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