Rock, Paper, Scissors
There really isn’t one that wins
them all. Each time you go to choose
it could fall either way, and even
though it was just a silly game to pass
the long bus ride on the way to the
loathsome school, maybe the real
lesson was in those shaking fists
that met in the aisle on the slow
yellow barge. Maybe the teachers
knew that algebra wouldn’t save us
one wit when our ass was in a sling,
but deciding to cut or cover or smash—
this was what life had in store; no easy
calls, the only trump our vulnerability.
