Taken by my Dad’s Poker Buddies

He ran out of money. He wagered my body.

My dad has a problem…he doesn’t know when to quit.

Every Thursday night, his buddies from the trailer park come to play poker. Every Thursday night, my dad loses a little more.

Tonight is different though. My palms sweat while the cards are dealt. Older men eye my smooth, supple body while drinking beers. Like a stack of poker chips, I sit frozen in place.

I’m an object. Something to be traded. Something to be sold.

My labor. My money. My hole. My brain.

Deal the cards. It’s winner-take-all.