<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">A Game Of Chess</div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 18px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">My white-square bishop moves on a diagonal, looking </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">for love. Upends an enemy knight who, cursing in Old </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">French inflames my king's rook who hurls insults </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 18px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">in Gaelic and commands a phalanx of pawns to march left-right,</div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">left-right until victorious or dead. Off the board, at the brick </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">kiln, a captured rook negotiates for new battlements as tiny </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 18px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">archers ring the base, drinking monk's ale. My king, </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">somnolent, self-satisfied, surveys the field as if he </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">owns it while my queen, hungry for contact, paws </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 18px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">the ground with her fighting slippers. And I, testosterone</div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">amok, elbows framing the carnage, coax my brain </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">toward endgame as the remaining enemy knight leaves </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 18px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">the board, corners me in my chair and exhales pungent </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">nasal mist that stings my eyes and dulls my nerves. </div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class="">I stand, do a slow turn like a drunken dancer, and resign.</div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 18px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;" class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- David Beckman</div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-family: "Times New Roman"; min-height: 18px;" class=""><br class=""></div></div></body></html>