Life is a Gamble
The roulette wheel is a silver eye, winking red and black,
And I am a moth with paper wings, fluttering at the crack
With dawn, when Lady Luck wears a mask of shimmering vivid haze,
Drinking gin and promises to last never lacking for endless days.
Ten feet tall I stand, a king of obsidian chips,
The dealer is a statue, a prayer on my lips.
A cascade of gold coins, a waterfall of sound,
I am walking on a ceiling, my feet off the ground.
The cards are sharp as mirrors, reflecting a face
That does not know surrender, that only knows the race.
But the chandelier dips, turning velvet into bone,
The green table shrinks, and I am standing all alone.
The queen of spades is laughing; she rips her paper dress,
And the coins turn into moths, flying from my grasp in distress.
The air is thick with smoke, a suffocating, silent gray,
I am drowning in a pocket, with nothing left to pay.
Now I am falling, now I am flying,
A ghost in a casino, where the time is dying.
The dealer winks again, a slow and heavy descent,
The house always wins, but the magic is never spent.
I reach for one last card, as the world turns inside out,
A beggar in a mansion, screaming without a shout.
The wheel spins, the eye closes, I am smoke upon the floor,
Waiting for the dawn to ask, “Do you want anymore?”
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