Magic Carpet

If there’s “any way out” – don’t take it.

 

Over at that all-weather diner, heard a squat customer telling a waitress
about his second-hand brother-in-law who wanted to be a famous writer,
but suffered some minor set-backs, amongst them, not unnoticed,
being no talent, no energy, but who says he’s figured his way nicely out;
he says he’s going to have his name changed to “Thomas Anonymous.”

 

There was this one person
who worked all their life
and then died.

 

 

One guy, apparently angered at either the faddishness of speech
and ideas, or else their late arrival, said, “Quality time, quality time –
phooey. Why didn’t I hear of this concept, back when I first started
associating with me – phooey!”

 

Just before sunset,
a peeved person pointedly pronounced,
“I’ve read it said, that ‘fate is justly shared by all’;
that ‘each man’s carpet is a complex weave,
with yarn in equal shared of the good and the ill’,
but if all that be so, then by gawd,
I’ve gotten somebody else’s reject!”

J.

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