Meet me at the Casino.
I'll wear a dress from my mother's closet.
A bad shade of orange that clings
in the wrong places.
We'll scalp tickets to a has-been show.
We'll realize with some horror that we fit
into this crowd a little.
I'll call you by that nickname
you wish had never stuck.
You'll lose at roulette.
Black. Black? It should have been red.
I'll bring all of this year's hope.
I'll bring all I'm ready to lose.
I can't decide whether the speaker in this is desperate or completely free. Bye, this year's hope...
ReplyDeleteLove the tone of this! to me the speaker sounds daring, more free than desperate... kinda like a care-free, reckless vagabond with nothing to loose...
ReplyDeleteI also love how upon first reading I get the impression that it's the bad shade of orange that clings in the wrong places as opposed to the mother's dress... good visual.
Maybe it helps that I work at a casino...but I really, really liked this. Great emotion, ambiguity, and depth in such an efficient poem.
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