The Gambler

Inspired by a Bukowski poem, one in a series I'm writing about different people and aspects of my self.

The Gambler

he leaves the house at 5:30 p.m. every day
with his lucky chip, and
his wedding band which
he wears in superstitious disbelief.
he plays No Limit Holdem for hours
Table 6 at the Golden Nugget.
he’s 65 years old and nothing suprises him anymore
no matter what his mood is, however
if the pot is big, he’s always interested.
he catches rivers, pushes his AK hard pre-flop;
he bluffs the newbies and,
speaks to nobody.
sometime during the night
he allows himself a can of beer,
always a Budweiser.
at 5 a.m. he gathers his chips
walks down the plush carpeted hall
past the ringing slot machines and
cashes in whatever he has left.
Arriving home, he pulls closed the curtains
and lies on the bed he used to share.
He rolls over onto his side
and wishes madly she were here
to admonish him, then
give him a peck on the check
still loving
who he really was.

Here is the original Bukowski poem on which the above is based. I produced it in video form and had it narrated.