The Game

by Harold Bond

You are my friends.  You do things

for me.  My affliction is

your hangup.  It is yours more

than it ever could be mine.

You spread my affliction thin

enough to go around once

for all of us.  You put my

coat on for me when I ask

you.  You put my coat on for

me when I do not ask you.

You embrace my shoes with your

compassion.  You tell me I

would be less apt to fall with

rubber soles.  You carry things

for me.  You tell me they are

heavy things, how it would be

difficult for anyone

to carry them.  You open

mustard bottles for me.  You

tell me how hard it is to

open mustard bottles.  I

agree with you.  I will not

destroy our game.  At night I

dream I am Samson.  I will

topple coliseums. I

will overwhelm you with my

brute power.  I will knock you

dead.  I will open mustard

bottles for you.  I will show

you how easy it really is.