Baby Needs A New Castle In Switzerland

the passengers on the Maybe ship
gather in the lounge
to watch the dice roll;
each eye wonders upon the other eye,
each eye seeks a number
each mind worries,
some mouths laugh
some twitch
some curse;
the numbers keep changing;
the ladies in blue and green and red, the
ladies in all the colors
circle about, thinking,
perhaps I’ve got the wrong number,
my husband is an ass;
the passengers on the Maybe ship
gather in the lounge
to watch the dice roll;
there’s hardly a formula to tell
the weather or the way,
and it all costs money and time,
and nobody seems to know,
some pretend to know–
but it’s a shield,
the tough boys spread their legs and
await the next
number; roll those god damned dice;
baby needs a new castle
in Switzerland;
everything is fixed–
there aren’t any winners;
well, perhaps there’s one
now and then, but it’s a trick and
the winners keep changing
and the ladies in red and blue and green
the ladies in all the colors
don’t know what to do–
the losers are everywhere:
the tough boys, the old boys, the new boys, the shy boys,
the college boys, the bums.
the passengers on the Maybe ship
gather in the lounge
to watch the dice roll;
it is the most terrible game of all
and none have played it right
yet.   it looks, perhaps, as if
none will.   the only formula being:
keep what you can,
act as if it meant something or other,
hold your water
your mud,
spread your legs again the storm,
laugh if you can,
cry alone, and
god damn the ladies in blue and green and red,
the ladies in all the colors:
the only color is blood.