empty
so empty
oh won’t someone fill this slot o’ mine?
sure casinos are filled with newer machines
pop-cultured appeals and skin-deep screens
flashing and singing while I ring in the wings
with a modest three windows, lights throbbing green
begging the men to come pull my red knob
aching
none taking
watching my potentials pass along without a spin
too long it has been since a man came to me
gracious and playful and rich and carefree
asking no questions, just paying my fee
to pull this red knob in a hazened glee
notwithstanding their winnings only existing in dreams
lo
what’s this?
a man is sitting down now to bum his cigarette!
for the first time in forever I feel that lustful gaze
though his contributions are less than worthy praise
I shudder and I creak as rusty cogs muster glaze
to oil my inner goddess receiving love he sends my way
by filling my slot with increasing force and jerking my red knob
off
he splits
back into the sea of catcalling machines and beggars in makeup
quick
a moment
I could not decide whether to be grateful for his coming or his going
but I already had flushed him with every cent I hold
gushing from the strongbox stuffed by all the times I sold
my reels to passing fancies for a spin to warm the cold
set in these creaking gears o’ mine that owe their weight in gold
and so for love and longing the pit boss signs me up as scrap
Morning's Early Dark 