You Can Bet On It

I’ve held you closer

than a handful of bad cards

drawn, with the house edge.

I’d put money on

losing my sanity to

a gambler’s dream —

That I can still win

even as the dealer drags

my chips once again

Across the table

he puts on a placid smile —

an invitation:

Play another round,

or walk from the fantasy

of you and of I?

It only takes one

lingering thread of hope for

the thrill to take hold

again, damn it all —

I’d waste a thousand nights for

one turn of a card

to confirm that we

were made to defy the odds

and all common sense.

Victim or active

player, in my own demise?

You can bet on it.