Let It Ride

The cards left on the table edged with gilt.

I'm all in, he said, so long as you respect complicity.

Now you see it, now you don't.

As if language could be trusted one iota less.

No is sexy! blurted out at the end of every billable hour.

An exit mistaken for an entrance.

So much we did not say.

Between the gesture and the act.

Between his legs of a sudden my privacy breached.

A pint of the black stuff at McDaid’s.

A drop of Writer’s Tears.

Our wives in some back room raising the stakes.