She annies up,
He trades for two
She doesn't know
He hasn't a clue
But straight-faced vigor
Was his disguise
She couldn't see through
Private eyes
He looks around,
Feels sick inside
For fifty bucks
He lays beside
What does she have?
He wonders while
She sits there
Laden with a smile
And finally
She closes in:
"You give up?"
Comes with a grin
Two two's, a three,
A jack, one seven
A gulp within
Says he can't win
And confirmation
Came when she
Laid down her pair
Of double three--
(How pathetic!
What a fool was he).
She carries triumph
In her arms
And saying, still,
With all her charms,
"You tried, but fate
Was there for me."
Thus concludes
Poker poetry.
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