Homeless
By 1stpoet
Homeless I sat at a round table holding Aces and eights (dead man’s hand) drawing to a full-house bet raised and I called leaving my fate in the hands of Luck-the-Lady The woman she was like others I had known threw me out and left me alone I found myself on the street living in a house of cards nothing solid to enclose me and lucky to even find chips to eat I dare not sleep for fear a one eyed jack will come and cut my throat so waking seems like a water balloon trying to escape the grasp of consciousness The cold chills me yet I do not shake as much as the streets at my feet rumbled by busses and trucks Having come from the “good side of the tracks” the rails are now my refuge the sound of wheels crossing switches reminds me of the sound of shuffled cards I still hold the bullets from that game Aces rifled to my chest where was the heart of a King and I now resemble the wild Joker Never would I bet to have found myself throwing dice to a curb winning a can of beans William Dawes 1stpoet copyright Written January 3rd, 2002 © on Jan 03 2002 08:46 AM PST 0 • 9
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"Homeless..."