partners in poetry

you work the saxons
I'll work the angles
gather from the ground
I'll cut off what dangles
they call them dumb rocks
we'll call them bangles

we'll take our needs
string them like beads
to wear on our necks
like old baubles
we'll toss our wants
out like bon vivants
as under their weight
we are hobbled

you roll the dice
I'll talk really nice
to the pit bosses
watching for cheats
we'll get the boss stoned
swap in our own
and then we will
never be beat

I'll work the angles
you work the saxons
we'll both ignore
the blaring klaxons
warning us of
all the danger
we'll go down in flames
with no one to blame
but at least
we'll not die as strangers