— Andrew Hill (@jazprose) March 24, 2015
Big Tech hates a peacemonger.
In the Casino
The hunchback in the green shirt plays the slots,
The cocktail waitress in her low-cut black gown
Hands him a Bud, the pit boss strides up and down
Beside the green tables in his dark suit, calling
For Security to come gather the takings.
As men yell, “Seven, seven” at the craps table,
A change-man in his black pants, white shirt
And black tie, hands ten dollars’ worth of nickels
To the lady with her Social Security envelope.
The loaders push a metal cart full of coin cans
To the booth where the cashier counts the twenty
Thousand dollars and signs a slip, smokes a cigarette
And checks jackpots on the computer.
Under the slot machines the coinwrappers open wooden doors
And pour coins–nickels, dimes, quarters, dollars–
Into plastic buckets while a burly security guard
In blue stands watching with his arms folded.
Ten people gather round the giant dollar machine
As a man in a brown suit slips three dollar tokens
At a time into the silver beast and watches the bells
And cherries revolve on the wheels, before he gets paged,
And the crowd disperses to the quarter slots.
A group from an Oakland bus lines up to cash in
Green slips guaranteeing ten dollars’ worth
Of free play on the clanging and whirring machines.
Those who glance out the windows see night become
Morning, the first dawnrays streaking the black streets.
Lawmaker says she’s been told to back off call for probe of Jeffrey Epstein’s work release
Behave Like You’re the Lord’s
Behave like you
Are the good Lord’s–
Deceit and hate
You can’t afford.