One Eyed Jacks and Swisher Sweets
Though it's been decades and a million one-eyed jacks ago.
I can still remember them coming into the casino from the cold.
A weathered, silver-haired lady and a younger man.
Both dressed in beat-up blue jeans and plaid shirts.
I guessed they were mother and son. But I could have been wrong.
They pooled their money at a low-stakes blackjack table.
They were humble and pleasant, unlike the rest of us.
They ordered sodas unlike the rest of us.
They always bet the minimum, like most of us.
Depending upon the ebb and flow of the game,
they would slide 5$ chips back and forth to one another.
They ran into a cold table, colder than the outside they came from.
They didn't last very long at the table; nobody really does.
They slowly drained their sodas and were gone.
For a short while afterwards, there was still a hint of swisher sweets,
perhaps a little bull thistle and mint in between.
I like to think they broke even, but I know they didn't.
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