Empty Slots

Pushing dirty pennies in pussy slots-
stool sitting perched upon sandless dry docks
isn’t the sort of game I saw for him. 
As a creature of conversation, strange
no one speaks as kittens fly on the wheels
and encouraging trays of drinks pass by
nameless, faceless bodies bent over cards,
coming together only to get lost;
silent strangers spend the night together.

Thousands of cents could fall to the carpet,
could rattle in pockets next to house keys,
yet the winnings are not enviable.
The wheel rolls around again and again,
human interaction of thought and light
lost in the din of bells, a ship of fools.