Betting in Las Vegas

It is depression that deceives you

So divinely into keeping on

Trying your first and last luck.

You wear this mask

Of hoping for the lord

Of big money to come by,

Come and visit you at last.

At this late hour right

Before dinner

From a to-go chicken house,

You fall in line,

Present your wallet, the whole

Of it

And you dream

A bucket of green bucks.

A while before

You passed by New York's landmark,

The lady in her splendor,

Her lamp's light on, you suppose

Or so you thought a liberal thought, the better

To earn good karma, the endorsement of the santos.

First you present to the cashier

The twenty for the ticket in quarters

And in good luck ceremony.

Then you do a patdown on the pocket

To feel the lightness of betting.

Here, before this slot machine, you swear

There is no history, no story, no love.

Aurelio S. Agcaoili

Torrance, CA

Nov. 21, 2004

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