The Gambler
The gambler
The night, on the other side of the bay, is a spinning roulette
garish, the entrance to the cave of the netherworld
guns and uniforms at the place of iniquity; remove your hat, sir!
The voice is menacing, a hand gripping a gun.
Eyes are dark pools transfixed, much to lose, one spin more
the self-loathing is a frozen grin, the light on the promenade
throws itself into the dark water simulating self-destruction
one more cast of the dice; luck will return
There is no winner in this obscene hunt for the unobtainable
small wins are quickly lost at the wheel of hope and sorrow
one more gamble before the day awakes to more indignity
as the losers walk home in defeated silence.
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