I do not gamble.
Yes, you heard it right.
I realise that, in many
people's eyes that
might seem odd, not
even
remotely conscienable.
like a twelve year old
waiting
for his balls to drop. But.
Consider this. I have
fucked up in so many other
ways, it is small wonder
I have something going
for me at all;
an opportunity to atone.
Still.
I am a long odds wager.
A dark horse.
4 comments:
Great Poem. I live near Vallejo. I wonder how long the horse meat market lasted? Great poem.
Thanks, Jon. I was oddly pleased with this one; so it's nice that you noticed. Weird fucking coincidence with the Vallejo Market photograph. I guesses it was in the US, but that was as close as I could get. Horse meat market. Horrible concept, although I gather they continue to be quite popular in Europe.
I love gambling.
Yeah, I remember having a brief conversation with you previously on the subject of a particular race one weekend.
Japan, when you were there, must have been especially exciting given their social fabric is so driven by gambling.
I don't know. I'm certainly not on any moral crusade. For one reason or another, I've just never been drawn to it: no bookmakers; no fruit machines; I don't even buy a weekly lottery ticket.
Some people I know are amazed that I've never walked into a bookmaker's and placed a bet, let alone spent an evening in a casino. The only time I have stepped inside was to eat a sandwich out of the rain and watch the greyhounds doing their stuff. I used to do that several times each week when I worked on the opposite side of the street and needed some peace and quiet.
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