Spendthrift by Steven Deutsch
Spendthrift a poem by Steven Deutsch
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.
About the author:
Steve Deutsch lives in State College, PA. His recent publications have or will appear in Evening Street, Better Than Starbucks, SanAntonio Review, Softblow, Mojave River Review, The Broadkill Review, Linden Avenue Literary Journal, Panoply, Algebra of Owls, The Blue Nib, Thimble Magazine, The Muddy River Poetry Review, Ghost City Review, Borfski Press, Streetlight Press, Gravel, Literary Heist, Nixes Mate Review, Third Wednesday, Misfit Magazine, Word Fountain, Eclectica Magazine, The Drabble, New Verse News and The Ekphrastic Review. He was nominated for Pushcart Prizes in 2017 and 2018. His Chapbook, “Perhaps You Can,” was published in 2019 by Kelsay Press.
Enjoy more of Stephen’s poetry published to Flashes <here>