Jack o’ Diamonds is a pickpocket, I remember
Bringer of false hope in time of need
With a sly red eye
Looks good laying in the mulch
Brings out the red in the cedar bark

The Queen of Clubs awaits fate in exile
In the dirt, her rightful place
Declaiming misconceptions in my face
Buffeting about the head and shoulders
An already-sore heart

The Three of Hearts is a morning after card
Found in my jacket pocket
In the parking lot of a New Hampshire State Liquor Store
Where I had stopped to look for
Hair of a dog named “Slivovitz”

Drunken six-handed poker
Hands all over the place   
Crossing my face
A nervous smile, “Just call me Jack”  
King on the floor with the Queen

What are you doing to me?
Can’t do anything with this hand
Except slap it
Face down on the table
Beside my money
And go home

-- Tom Rubenoff