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Monday, February 6, 2012

Poker's Facing


Cold stare, hands full and cards down. 
The clock ticks and the sweat drips. 
Humid heat blurts brows in the cold drown.
Drinks go flat and a slow tightening slips. 

Bored eyes fein and fuel intent. 
The stress floats the air and weights. 
Hunger dribbles, hopes are sent. 
Each line is cast and hooks abate. 

The balance tilts and see-saws. 
Seconds build towers and crack. 
A breath deepens before the brawl.
The cards tip, lay flat, and attack. 

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