We love 
the knives
that cut
the limbs
from our
body. Love
the cold
hand of
a slap
in the 
face, aces
high, nothing
wild, pair
of twos
five seven
ten, all
different suits,
might as
well fold
but we
stay in 
the game
play with
our teeth
lose all
our money
get drunk
find new
ways to
make ante.
I've got
no arms
or legs;
I'm a
fool for
romance, 
deal me in.