My poem, Spendthrift, was just published by Flashes of Brilliance. Here is the link:
and the poem
Spendthrift
After Max died,
Aunt Sarah spent
her spare time
at the Seminole Casino
near Coconut Creek.
They’d had no children
and she would claim
the slots were more compelling
than the quiz shows on T.V.
It was the early 60’s,
before Florida boomed,
and the half duplex
she owned in Center Village
stood, looking awkward
and embarrassed,
with fifty others
in the middle of the nowhere
that was Hillsboro Boulevard.
Each day she’d sit
with a paper cup of nickels
and feed the one-armed bandits.
She told us she’d hold her breath
while the grapes and lemons spun.
A big strike might yield $50–
the nickels erupting
to dance on the concrete floor.
Behind her back
we called her
the palest Seminole in Florida,
as she never saw the sun.
But we were young then
and hadn’t yet sampled
the fruits of loneliness.
Stevie's Law 
Good poem, Steve. But sad.
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Thank Bob. I seem to be writing sad this year. I’m not sure why.
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