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Poker Faces
by
George Wentz

The five of us sat there
around the table
already well into the night,
each holding the future in his hands.

I know these men,
their eyes, their smiles, their voices.
But tonight, like every other night
around this table, they were hiding.

Al stared at his cards
as if his mind was in Italy.
Tom pulled the sides of his mouth back
biting down on a thick brown cigar.

Rich just frowned, eyebrows together,
with a puzzled look on his face.
Fred was smug, avoiding eye contact,
pretending impatience with all of us.

I watched them for some hint,
some crack in their expressions
to tip their hands and tell me
if my cards might win or lose.

But no one spoke
except to bet, or raise, or fold.
I know these men, but tonight
they wore the masks of poker faces.

--Submitted by George Wentz on 2011-09-06.

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