Email Poem |
Las Vegas Town
By Franklin Price
Las Vegas town in mid-July is quite the place to be.
The temperature is hovering around one twenty three.
The cool casinos welcome us to pay for their AC.
We bring our money with us to roll the dice and see.
Our car is waiting in the sun. We cannot touch the wheel.
If we were sitting naked there, a sauna we would feel
But then again the cops would come and throw our ass in jail
Would waste our gambling money when putting up the bail
We keep our clothes and suffer until the car is cool
We cruise the strip in comfort. Mom did not raise a fool
Saturday is crowded and the heat's on every face
We leave the strip and go downtown to find a cooler place
We pass the wedding chapels that abound in such galore
A tradition in Las Vegas is awaiting at the door
We're married so we do not stop, downtown calls our name
How can we lose our money if we do not play the game?
Parking high on Binion's lot, in fact we're on the top,
The elevator's slow and old just like its carried crop.
Finally the doors slide open and tables come in view.
The scene from past familiar, quarter slots are calling you
Wheel of fortune, cherries jubilee, bars and stars abound
Promises of fortunes as the wheels spin round and round
Must play the max to win the max. You cannot be afraid
Luck not work makes millionaires. That's how the game is played
Progressive slots offer the most if the spinning match is right
But our gambling bucks were gone at the ending of the night
We had our fun, we did our thing, no practice of refrain
We only left what we could have flushed, affordably, down the drain.