Losing is a blessing because it holds your appetite
long after you and the losing season are finished.
Winners rarely posses much frailty
but losers carry it in abundance.
Frailty is necessary
to keep the machine out of your way
and make for an interesting cliché
while you sit on the toilet, holding your head,
realizing you would still be on that same toilet,
even if you had been a winner;
Maybe the crap coming out would stink different—
but that’s the only real difference between
winners and losers; It’s the shit.
And you buy double-ply just to be sure
nobody has a more sparkling asshole than you.
After you make your last wipe
and your pants are halfway pulled up, you stop—
notice yourself in the corner of a mirror
and you are the epitome of frailty, now.
So you leave your jeans around your knees
to hop, hobble and bobble through the rest
of your life; or at least the next ten minutes—
because the phone rang.
Winning at anything like that with so much frailty—
that’s what earns respect;
Something winners rarely posses
but losers carry in abundance.
So next time you’re naked in the shower,
covered in bubbles— the shampoo stinging your eyes—
and there’s a loud knock at the door.
Don’t try to rinse off.
Don’t bother with the towel.
Just lunge yourself blindly down the hallway
and open the door.
It could be the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol
or just a neighbor needing to borrow a cup of sugar.
dripping all that frailty—
your guest will fall in love with you for it.
Or at least, that’s been my experience.