900--the empty universe.

You were my four days ago, You were my middle of the night sob story.  You were destined to be my money pit.  $150 later I forgot about you, whatever promises I made, your outbound bookie with crossed off numbers.  You were just you.  You enjoyed people.  Whether you dealed or were on the slots you somehow attracted people like electro magnetic fields.  You had a high command of your ideals, the principles of playing black jack but you somehow never transformed me to the high standard of ethics you relentlessly prescribed to.  The rule of logic that swam around my head like a hand of loose pebbles.  Knocking sense in me took more than effort.  It was a shield.  I spent that $100 and the $100 after that.  I even spent my blood plasma money.  There was only one rule of doctrine I subscribed to.  Don't go in the casino with less than $100.  One needed back up.  At least $105.  I will show you the image which you cannot imagine just from guessing about my life.  It's not that you become angry with me or I become angry with myself.  The gravitational pull can easily be broken, if that's what I want, what I truly want.

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I am an anatomical being, a captive of my own pagan imagery that goes beyond human comprehension or human sensitivity. I cannot explain my actions or my reasons behind it. I take vengeance into my own hands, lashing upon my own soul, a terror against my own flesh.   My hand form a crippled state of postured anxiety, arthritic and deformed but ready for the next attack.  I anticipate the cards, the smell, the odor, the cigarette dodging and the short sightedness of joint players.  The mind game is to overcome the dealer.  The redemption is rising above my conditional circumstance to a new high, the paper product, the dollar.  I earn money ethically but squander it.  I look for a common enemy or a spiritual tranquilizer in the middle of my transition.  My feet move along.  I determine the speed but not the direction.

Lights out.

I walk in the casino at noon and boom, the power goes off.  I wait by a dark slot and stop by the black jack table a few minutes later to find Francine putting the new dawn cards back into the holder with a hand held phone flashlight.  The casino is purely dark.  Dark enough for the ceiling elegance to not even have an afterglow about them.  The pop machines won't bring forth liquid or ice.  I am in the afterlife, stripped of all desires.  Minutes pass and now change.  I look for the exit.  It's time to leave even before I get an ordinance from heaven.


to be continued.