Playing Through

The inconveniences of how we choose
To live and work don't mean a thing to you,
Since you don't work, and what you choose to do
Is near enough to being dead. This skews
The way you look at things; your jaundiced views
Of lives lived peaceably provide a clue
To what you mean when you call, "Playing through!"
On crowded sidewalks. You have a short fuse.

I won't pretend that we'll act civilized
When it's our turn to have a joust with fate.
Whatever fortune places on our plate
Is what we'll eat, disgusting or despised
Or chewy. Time to stop acting surprised,
To load the bullet, pull the trigger, wait.