When black and white turn to gray,
Left and right lose their way
In the drab they lose direction,
Stalled at the intersection,
There we ponder which is best.
North?
South?
East, or West?
How many tolls must we pay?
Which is best?
It’s wrong to say,
Don’t ask
Don’t tell
That’s the code,
Common law,
No king of this road
Just a queen with no where to be,
Hail her royal majesty
©B L Costello 2019