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Poetry: Bitter Poetry
Poker bulls
by vinny

I see them at work sometimes, seedy men with white shirts and faux badges. They look dangerous and stupid, like lobotomized bulls, drooling over what they might destroy. I dislike them. They remind me of somone I should have dispatched long ago, before he knew my name. Now it is too late for that, the cards are dealt and played. Still that was one hell of a pot, and nearly won. Oh well, there is always time...it bends, you know, .the same coins, round and round, return.

 
 
 
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