National Poetry Month: Day 12

Low hanging, hazy smoke clouds and neon lights are the perfect mask for desperation.

They pair well with the facade of a good time, mingling with hope and tingling nerves with opportunities.

Promises of one in a million shots and life changing testaments lure them in.

Hideous busy carpets, creative charms and rituals guide them to their destination, their chance to reverse their luck.

Mojo, juju, vibes, talismans, get them drunk with a silly sense they can control these machines, these games, their fate and fortunes.

Hope and determination block out distractions and common sense.

They sit. They hope. They pull. They lose.

They sit. They hope. They pull. They lose.

They sit. They hope. They pull. They lose.

Right when they are about to abandon their post, right when their sobriety kicks in, a ringing of bells, a flashing of lights, squeals of delight and murmuring of big winnings quickly makes it to to their ears.

They cannot leave yet.

That could be them.

So they sit. They pull. They hope.


  1. I actually used to work for a casino in the 90s. Not on the floor though. Yup, that is how it works. I recently went back into one (to see a Beatles cover band), and I can't understand what I used to like about that atmosphere. Yuck.

    1. The addictive atmosphere is so sad and palpable. Seriously walking outside was beyond refreshing, it helped break the trance.


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