some say this building had issues with the temperature anyway but most would agree this heat was not brought on by the typical Houston air he walks in to the beat of the trickling chips around him heads turn for the new, the old already know how it goes down
some get up before he sits only to make sure their pocket linings stay the sweat on their forehead tells it all who has the nerve to face the boy?
an hour in of back and forth shuffles murmurs eyes only on him as he moves their mouths ajar, he bets all in without a flinch the atmosphere is flipped within a card an uproar of "shocked but not surprised" flows through the room
as he leaves with money in one hand, and all the cheers in the other the room falls silent faster than the door can close just with one phrase that slips through the crack "the boy is in rare form tonight"
was broke this year so I wrote poems for my family. this is for my brother. it was probably the hardest to write cause idk **** about poker. may go back and edit, so this is kind of a draft.