“Dragon Man”: A Poem about Baccarat

It’s Sunday
Some men are at church
I’m at the casino
Banging slot machines racket
To the gate of bimbo waitress trays
Swinging her hips
“Can I get you a drink hon?”
I hear her say,
And brush her off
Here hope plays the fools
I play bacarrat
Dropping candy casino chips
On the line
With chattering chinese players
Who fog the game in dense smoke
Drooled from yellowing cigarettes
All smiles
When I first sat down to play
Banker hit a seven on the third card
“Dragon man,” they call me now
The third card seven pays forty to one
“Dragon Man”, they smile through stalactite teeth
I get the itch, its gonna happen again and I bet the banker
And the chinese press behind me
Laughing
To lay stacks along my bet
Little leeches about my lank
As the tumult mounts
The rough face of the dealer
Holds out his hand
“no more bets”
And he pulls a card from the shoe
The player has a six
The banker has zero
So the dealer pulls out another card
Its a seven
hits it on the third card
It’s the Dragon again
And I hear my entourage scream
“Dragon man! Dragon man! Dragon man!”
People sitting at the other tables
Gawk at our racket
The Chinese rub my head
Mayhap’s my luck rubs on them
Payout hits all the Dragon bets
Misses my banker
But I never bet the Dragon
The odds are bad
Its Sunday
Some men are at church
Searching for purpose
We search for our purpose in process
People at church are too desperate
There is far more hope here at the casino

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