i am talking about
the nicola cage movie.
you can talk about anything else;
the hurricane they named jezebel,
a debt the casino owns,
a fix that isn’t in the fight,
but in the story that is told.

i am talking about the shot
that rings out in the crowded dark,
the perfect,
public,
patriot’s spark.
but follow the blood,
not the scream,
follow the money,
not the dream.
the truth is not a conspiracy,
just a simpler,
cheaper,
uglier scheme.

you can talk about the boxer,
the fall guy,
the mysterious dame;
the tylers set up for the frame.
but the killer is the best friend,
the one who shakes your hand,
the system that you understand,
the trusted,
not the strange.

so talk about the hurricane.
talk about the rain.
in iowa,
september 19th,
this year.
it’s a better story,
smooth and plain.
it hides the wiring and the pain
of the bet that was always meant to fail,
the hand that was always meant to steal,
the die that was always loaded,
and the house that always wins in the end.