my advanced age I long ago sold
my soul to the devil, and if not—
I will next time we cross paths.
He completes me. Had me at the
quivering whiskers of my chinny,
chin chins huffing & puffing and
blowing my rubric house away.
Ignorance and confusion, muddle
and mess, consternation & dismay
mistake, error & rooms for play—
mothers mothering invention and
innovation: holy smokes & mirrors
only the devil and the cross roads
could change this lead to gold.