The next spin, spade, jack, or gin
Is almost certainly
A guaranteed win.
Surely enough, I was up big.
I was surrounded by slots, sluts, and cigarette butts.
My life couldn’t be greater, but I tell you what:
There came a voice in my head that said to cash in.
I told it okay, but after just one more spin.

Bar, bar, ghost.
Not even close.
I tried again and again,
But I lost more than most
Of my winnings from that night and more.
That machine ate my coins
From last night and before.

The bottom of my pockets would not allot me more chips.
I dropped to my knees and begged for witness
From a patron-a savior—to donate to this
Endeavor of mine to leave on a win.

One penny, then two, fell into my cup.
I got aggressive to the point of pressing my luck.
After enough time had passed I had saved up enough
To bet it all on 2 black and return all my funds.
The metal ball sang a ping as it entered the wheel.
It flew and it flinged, but I knew that was the deal
With games such as this, to provoke a nauseating feel.
I opened my eyes to the ball resting on black. 2.

I jumped! I sang! I was positively high!
I finally returned to my deserving rich life!
The wheel glistened. It caught my eye.
I looked at the man and said “Let it ride.”
The table bouyed and balanced—
For I had lost mine—
As the ball bounced around black
But landed on nine.

This time the bouncers were through
With my drunk-induced rage.
They left me dead in the street
To continue my ways.