“How Did Your Father Spend His Spare Time?”​

—internet questionnaire

It was the 70s, & I too young to learn gamble.
Over a pool table’s golden felt, my father
flung cards that slid like figure skaters
prancing to a perfect halt. His friends formed a circle,
telling jokes & smoking bland cigarettes
that smelled of the forest in a burning year.
I loved to watch them pitch the red,
white & blue plastic chips into the middle.
Each disc, a piece of the twenty-dollar buy-in—
not a fortune even then—meant comradery,
gamesman— & one-upmanship, escape.
This was how I wanted to be like my father—
festive & playful, willing to risk—
for the few minutes he let me watch
before sending me off to a less mysterious room.