Slot Machine

I put in my two cents but never know
what you’re going to spit out in response.
Perhaps I’m not welcome in this strip of
desert, my luck gone dry, hopes no higher
than your neglected brown carpet. Bright lights
and bandit metaphors can’t hold me here
forever; it’s fight night, and I never
miss the undercard, blowing my savings on
the underdog, me, tipping for the free
drinks so necessary to make it out
of here alive. Give me your hand; let’s dance.
Smile for me at least once before I leave
so I’ll have a story to tell. We may
disagree, but I don’t mind if you yell.

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