“The Game” – poem by Jocelyn Pinero


The reflection from his eyes

I can see darkness.

He walks up and down the alley at night

Looking for a gambler like him.

 From the distance he sees a tall man with a long black jacket coming his way.

The fog of the night is blocking his view.

He gets a little closer and shouts out, who’s there?

The man responds I’m gambler looking for a good game.

While they sit at the table and drop the first flop, he makes his first bid.

He wins his first hand.

With a smile on his face he says, “I will play again.” He bids one hundred dollars

Loses all again.

The night gets deadly quiet, his expression starts to change; he looks at me and says, “Honey one more game.”

I look up to him and shake my head. And I say, “why are we wasting time here when there’s no more money to play?”

He replies, “Because every hand is a winner and every hand is a loser.

I can only hope for a good hand.”

 Only a fool and thief can say those words.

 I pray for his soul, and walk away

He has no cares and worries while he plays his game. He spends his days and nights here thinking everything will be alright.

I just hope he doesn’t gamble the rent money again.

He will end up sleeping in the dark alley

Once again.


(NOte: Photo is by LaTur on flickr.com) 


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