The Slots —A Mort Laitner Poem

The Slots







A Mort Laitner Poem


Standing in the casino of life,

I wondered, “How many times had I hit the jackpot?”

For years I was stuck in front of those hopeless penny machines—

before my promotion to a pocket full of Washington quarters and Liberty silver dollars.

These one-armed bandits stole my spare change and

I rewarded them with caresses as if my temperature alone would warm their reels.

With multiple yanks on their metallic levers

my eyes always prayed for triple 7’s.

Only to be rewarded with the ding, ding, ding of 2 or 5 or 10 coins dropping into my bucket.

But as I stood in the center of casino of life,

I remembered three jackpots.

Three sweet rewards from years of angst buried in sweaty palms pumping coins into

the slots.

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