In the night casino
insomniac gamblers
feed social security
to video-slots.

Bright, spastic, noisy.
           Ask:
Why I want to play
broken roulette wheel
caged like animal
behind chicken wire?

            Why?
Because only this one
                         is real.

This damaged memory,
Orphic egg sieved through dreams
of alcoholic adventuring:
Vegas, Cherokee,
                          & Biloxi.

Need to run it by my therapist.
                          & soon.

Finally threw away the suit.
Covered in pale dust,
probably carcinogenic.

Made it to the sidewalk.
Those behind him did not.
          Compete silence
through empty tunnel
          in government SUV.

Handle of vodka hidden
in garage, new townhouse.
Wife wanted to live closer
to her practice.
          Too close
to those sidewalks
where phantoms lay
          broken.

A bachelor again at 50.
In his pocket, white chip
of surrender.

That suit, those shoes
into the trash.
          He’s out.
He greets the dead
who will always remain,
          until we forget.