hold ’em

she dealt the cards
and soon called my bluff

i didn’t want to call it quits
so i went all in

it was a chance
worth taking

and it paid off
adding to my chips

we all took turns
being the dealer

framing that round
of the game

framing their chances
and our chances too

calling the shots
back and forth

our egos billowing
as our stacks grew

the fiery talk
cooled by craft brews

or stoked by them
i’m not sure

then more beers
and singing

off key
repairing our friendships

egos forgotten
for a time

getting all
existential

alcohol
yoga

cards
chance

holding our cards
holding our alcohol

holding our yoga poses
holding our chances

of success
in our hands

crafting a winning hand
from what we hold

and what’s
on the table

calling a spade
a spade

rose is a rose
is a rose

she giggled
calling in question

the rose’s
existence

we called a halt
to the game

calling it quits
for the evening

not even bothering
with last call

wanting to call in
sick the next day

then she
called me

a cab
and I giggled

and sang
call me

/ / /

This poem was written in response to Wordle 205 at The Sunday Whirl.

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6 thoughts on “hold ’em

  1. How I remember those rounds of cards and the laughs (although I am not sure all our stacks grew!). What great fun simple things were in days past. I really enjoyed this.

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