21. Spin

A wheel is turning,

Black and red,

My patience hangs

From a thin, taut thread

 

Am I winning?

It’s still spinning…

 

A single piece

Of pointed lead,

In a revolver,

Pressed to my head

 

Am I winning?

It’s still spinning…

 

A carriage-clock

Spins off the hours,

And I want to believe

This world is ours

 

Am I winning? Are we winning?

It’s still spinning. You’re still spinning…

 

A single piece

Of pointed lead,

In a spinning chamber,

Pressed –

The End

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