The Gambler Poem by Lynn Anne Brown

My Dad was a Travelling Man
So much so that even when he settled down
Promised Mum that he'd be home at nights
Knew she couldn't make it through them
Without someone to hold on tight
He Drove Truck for a living
It let him be his own boss
He said it was because
He was allergic to formen
That when they hovered
Hanging over his shoulder
He'd break out in anger
Which he puctuated
By telling me
That
He turned in
His last resignation
With his fist.

And so he drove
And he liked to drive
No one bothered him
As long as he got things done
And he got things done
Because that is what you did
And he'd expect no less of someone else

He held honour more important than rank
Character more important than clothes
And a Person's Word to be their net worth
To him a promise was as good as an oath
A handshake was as good as a signature
And a coffee, dinner, or a piece of pie
Maybe a tank of gas
Was all he'd ever asked for
When kith and kin
Would ask him
What he wanted for his help

He taught me
How to navigate my world
To read a map, To read a Perly's Guide
To load the first things last
To trace a route back to the beginning
To take my bearings when I'm lost
He taught me how to tell when someone lied
And how to know when they spoke truthfully
And a little about how to respond to each

He taught me poker
How to Bluff and Read a Bluff
That changing up my Tells
Could work as was well as the stoic face
And to read the odds not just the people
Only to bet what you afford to lose
And that if people are playing fairly
Eventually is every one is dealt
A Real Good Hand
As well as some really bad ones
And Jacks over nines
Was worth betting on

How taught me how to wait
When it was wise
And how to move fast
When it was needed
And how to fish
Without caring
If you ever caught a bite
And how celebrate the times you did.

Sometimes we'd have fish and beans for breakfast
At other times we'd be digging through the cooler
For the wieners we brought just in case
Because freedom needs a backup plan

He taught me how to tend a fire
To make it grow when needed
To keep it small when heeded
To stir the embers into ash
As it dies down
And to keep
Some water round
Just in case
Oh yes, and how to stomp
And why boots work than bare feet
When it comes to kicking coals
And why it's good to choose
A strong and steady
Stick
Before you even start

And he taught me
To defend myself
Well actually
The story went
'Here's what you do,
if an attacker has you cornered.'
Just a few moves really
Three in all
Some things he'd picked up in the army
A little hand to hand
That I'd later be told
Was Martial Arts

My Daughters Father
A mistake I don't explain
And a sometimes
Martial Artist
Trained to Brown
In some underground Garage
Turned wide eyed and bright
The day he thought to show me
What to do if there was ever trouble

And so after escaping every hold
He tried to put on me
(I did a lot of wrestling with my brother)
And putting it down
'To the fact'
That he'd held back
Because if he hadn't...

That's when he decided
To get a gist of what I already knew
And so I showed him what my dad showed me
And on seeing it said horsely
He taught you how to kill
And all I thought
Was
That he'd trusted me
Not to know it
Until I needed to.