Not So Much A Gamble, Lassie #2 Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

“Lassie! ” I shouted as she
Was smoking a cigarette,
While I was stuffing
Paper bills inside my lambasted wallet.

“What? ” She told me
With such disdainful arrogance -
Like the manner of the tigers
Deprived of the forestry’s asylum.

“Why did you leave the
Gambling table? That was
Your first bail! ” I asked her
With tremulous askance.

Her eyes were dead,
The cities bowed down
Upon her feet,
The trees rustled and shivered
As they grew anxious
Of the tempestuous vesper
That overtook Lassie as she
Blasted towards me,

“I’ve had too many bails.
This gamble
Nothing else works,
In the heraldry of the stars -
You. You allowed me to
Gamble when you knew so well
That I’d lose at some point.”

And at that moment
Of sheer and utter frigidity
I knew Lassie.

From skin,
To bones,
To lacquer,
To daisies,
To tulips,
To ballet,
To your sweet attachment
With children
And wonder lust.

I knew,
That you wouldn’t
Fit the gambling scene.
You were less than a gambler.
You were more than
A wretched blunder,

And I think I knew so well,
But I didn’t stop you.
“Everything’s a gamble, Lass.”

“You wouldn’t know the next
Day, if you’re going to live
Over the grass, Lassie -
Vibrant, and unscathed.”

I told her, sternly
But she was abrupt
In dismissing all of me

“I don’t have to hear that.”
She blew a thick shroud of mist
Towards my face
She hailed a cab,
Tossed her cigarette butt
Onto one dead pavement
That somewhat whimpered
At her very wintry presence.

From a distance,
I think I heard
The mad laughter
Of the gamblers
That Lassie
Left.

All of them
Won
Simultaneously,
Or
All at once

Because
They were
Genuine gamblers.

And so with that,
I went to the casino
And found
That I was
A true
Gambler
Myself.