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then move to another. That way
we won’t draw much attention
to ourselves. Sound good?
Table games are riskier,
so we’ll hang out in the big banks
of slots, nickels unless we get lucky.
I have to admit it’s kind of exciting,
and not the unlikely idea of winning
but of maybe getting away with playing.
If you win really big, they won’t
let you keep the money, but anything
that drops in the tray is yours, Dad says.
Let’s take a snort, then go give it a try.
He pulls out his little amber bottle,
the one with the tiny silver spoon
attached to the lid by a little chain.
The crank is definitely mediocre,
but it does the job if you do enough,
keep going back—and back—for more.
I’ll go get some rolls of nickels.
You two scout out a quiet corner.
If a cocktail waitress comes by, I’ll
take a Coors. Can’t fuck that up!
What he means is, they bring players free
drinks—notoriously awful free drinks,
mostly mixers, to keep on the cheap.
We find a nickel slot island, well
back in one corner, away from bars,
restaurants, and the main traffic pattern.
Found you guys. Can’t hide from
