On the River in China Town

….Down here we all float.

Nine of hearts, nine

Queen of heart’s, queen

Addiction knows no boundaries

Keep your needles clean

He stiffed the sitter last Friday, a tale of woe and mouth feeding, she still left pissed

Singh’s place was three blocks from his North Beach apartment....head down walk

Mr. Bings  first for Cape Cods and courage, none found because he was a shithead

Two year old at home, out in a crib, half a bottle of Dimetapp, like I said, shithead

Stomach turning sour

Toes tapping on the floor

Ten of hearts ends the flop

Last two hundred out the door

The little Chinese man in the dark at the bottom of the stairs was Max

The only light in the well produced from the lit end of his unfiltered cigarette

Rolled his own, saw him and spat “You go home….or die tonight”

He showed him his money, Max laughed and let him pass “disgusting”

Jack of hearts, jack

The card upon the turn

His chances slim to none

A lesson never learned

The money was rent, food, medicine for the croup, pissed off babysitter

Last week he went home, eye swollen and a noticeable limp

The owner and his henchman giving sage advice, “don’t come back”

Mr. Singh, a portly man smoking little cherry cigars, eyes smoldering this night for him

The game took to the river

The last card full of sin

King of hearts, king

The card to seal the win

The sweat dripped pools from the end of his nose……shaking

Singh saw the win in his eyes, shook his head……stupid

He flipped his cards, breath held, an audible buzz in his head

Collected his winnings and said nothing to Max on the way out, "wrong way shithead"

He took his prize and headed out

Luck was on the rise

There was no scream or pool of blood

Or interest of any size

The baby woke and cried alone

Her fingers gripped her gown

Tonight she lost her only hope

On the river in Chinatown

Reviews

[barleygirl]

You have a way of writing about characters that are bigger than life, yet making it sound like you actually did spend this time gathering these authentic observations for your poem(s). I love the way you pack your poems with details that impart a strong mood for the kind of people & interactions you describe. Your poem feels so haunted & so pathetic, just like many of these kinds of lives can be (((HUGS))) fondly, Margie

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

addiction knows no bounds...too many souls burnt in the floating sun...

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

nine of hearts...and a queen...the innkeeper and the other woman or the right woman.lol

[Crowley]

At that point any woman...lol. Always love your comments!!!