I put a quarter in the slot,
And took the bar in hand.
The icons spun and then did not
Line up the way I’d planned.

The place was full of twinkling lights
And yet the darkness reigned.
The beeps and buzzes issued quite
A din that never waned.

People milled around the room,
Staring at the sights.
There were no windows, like a tomb,
Just walls of rhinestone blight.

Dollar signs were everywhere
But nothing of their worth.
A facade of plastic style and flair
And promises of mirth.

Outside the world went on its way
With winds and cycling sea.
Vendors hawked their rich display
Of useless stuffed debris.

Behind the boardwalks and the strips
Of buildings in their row.
The truth appears in broken chips
And souls beyond the glow.

Darkened homes and boarded shops,
Now merely vacant shells,
Mirror the empty backdrops
Of the concrete citadels.

The beauty and the brilliance
Of the shiny yellow flake
Beckons more than aspirants
Who need a lucky break.

The captains offer us a treat
And appeal to our desire.
Though they will grab the warming heat
We all will feel the fire.

A leader claimed another spot,
To build his fairy land.
The icons spun and then did not
Line up the way he’d planned.