Gamble
The thrill of gambling for some
Isn’t just the winning or losing
It’s believing you know what’s coming.
They say the quants have taken all the fun
Out of the games but that isn’t true.
There remains a pleasure in solving a puzzle
Everyone else leaves to chance.
Don’t underestimate that euphoric rush
Mushroom clouding inside you
When the dealer flips over the card
You absolutely knew was coming next.
It isn’t luck. It’s calculated.
I don’t mean scripted,
Only that there are sometimes patterns
That get repeated, leading to outcomes
Reliably predicted.
Then there are the mystics bad at maths
They get a feeling in their gut
And lose themselves in a moment
Time seems to slow, lurch forward, stop again before it reverses
An image appears. A color. A number.
The name of the girl they should have texted
They begin to remember the future.
I don't bet on anything
Because nothing is known
And everything that happens
Only happens once.
Until this very moment
I suppose it’s true I’ve never been
Anything more than a probability.
Only in retrospect was there ever any doubt.
These are the stakes I’m used to
Even to believe in uncertainty
Is enough of a gamble.
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