losing

I love the slot machines,
she says.
though I miss the old days.
the one armed
bandits, the bucket
of coins, the smoky
casino, and drinking
as I pulled the levers
waiting, waiting for
the dials to roll
and show me what
I've won or didn't win.
and then the clang
and dinging of coins
as they spilled
like a silver fountain
out the small mouth
of the metal box
that I adored. I could
play all night,
if it let me, if it
didn't always take
it all. every coin,
swallowed whole, as
was the long hours
of my nights alone.