Didn’t know the stakes were so high until I was all in, really in,
hell, I’d not played much polka, never mind with a maverick,
a wheeler dealer, a guy who knew how and when to show his cards, could spot a patsy a mile away and I’d bet he spied one over my way.

Now don’t get me wrong, he did feel something, he liked my kind face, my willingness to please, however, swiftly it was game on, no turning back, he had to win, it’s all he knew; besides he took a gamble too, you see, played an out-of-towner, but luck be ******, he’d win no matter what.

And before long I was all in, ready to risk my heart for a true love,
so, I played long after the odds were clearly in his favor, his angle obvious, he had to win at all costs; naïve, I stayed in too long, played it straight, knew I couldn’t bluff my way out of a paper bag even if I wanted to.

Then he called it, game over, the love I played now in his pocket,
not his fault I chose to bet my heart, believed he’d play fair and care, but the deal breaker came with my plea to be recognized, respected, but, no surprise, he wished me well, no hard feelings, even said, let’s be pals.

And with the game done, the very last kitty won, a text arrived,
“you’re welcome to drop by anytime you’re in the hood.” and I’d bet my last chip, if I had one, his proposal came from his need to be considered one of the good guys even when he’d broken a heart.

~pe kaplan