Gambler (HS 124)

I run across the street, against the red light,
to get out of the downpour.  I have no umbrella
again. I never know when to bring one.
I stand under the protection of a store canopy,
next to a guy hunched in a black poncho hood.
Were you always a gambler, he asks, laughing.
I think about those dark casinos that have no clocks,
the idea that time is stopped,
but a push of the buttons on the slots,
the roll of the dice, cards sliding across the dark felt,
while the roulette wheel spins . . .
and then that little white ball trips and falls to a stop.
I’m really not a Las Vegas kind of guy, I say,
turning to look at him, but he’s gone.

* * * * *

Today’s prompt is


Use it to inspire a piece of writing, and then post that piece as a comment below. I would love to read it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s