The gambler puts in fifty-cents
expects hundreds in return;

a simple flick of the wrist,
and abundance will be his.

I feel like a slot machine,
paying dues for minimal input.

Tells himself there is more
to be had, if luck runs his way;

walks away from the richness
of family, joy of friendships –

I’d be a slot machine for him,
if only love equated money.

dreams of possibilities beyond
his daily reach, a fast track plan;

fortune is calling, palm itching
just one more roll of the die –

The die has been cast here;
no longer willing to gamble.

one more momentous win,
a promise to share the wealth;

what more could any woman want
from a man – half an empty dream?

Took a chance, myself once,
thought he was my windfall –

guess, in the end, all gamblers lose.