Poker is such a brutal and nasty sport..

It’s so damn ugly. It’s so damn unforgiving it’s scary, it’s scary and it hurts like hell when you lose because when you lose a big hand or mess up a big play it hurts you deeply, and it hurts you hard.

I love to win when I play games. I love coming out on top, knowing I did my best and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that my best was good enough to win the goddamn game. But in poker, your best is never good enough. In poker people always lose when they play that goddamn hurtful game because the only person that wins is the house and the people inside that mad house.

And let me tell you non-poker fans out there that losing to the house sucks and it sucks bad because I want to be in that house, hell, I want to own the goddamn house and keep all the money in the process, “But life don’t work that way baby,” my mother would say “Sometimes life just ain’t fair.” “I know mother, I fucking know!!” I say. I put my head down on the table and scream. My mother looks at me, concern written all over her lovely face. She asks me what’s wrong and I tell her “everything is wrong mother, everything is really fucking bad!!”

She puts her hand on my shoulder and I touch my chips, wishing I had more to play with, wishing I had more to spend because 585 chips is not a lot of money, it’s not a lot of chips at all and I slam my fist on the table, knocking all of my chips to the floor. My mother smacks me across the face “Boy what the hell is wrong with you? she says, “Have you lost your goddam mind? Have you lost the good sense the lord gave to you when brought you in this world?? “Yes,” I reply, “Yes, I have lost my mind mother” My mother looks puzzled at this, “I’ve lost my mind and my common sense and now all I want to do is curl up in a corner, go to sleep and go home momma, I just want to go home.”

My mother looks at me funny, “What you mean, go home?” she ask, “Boy you are home!!” she says, “this is your home boy” she gets up, walks over to face her son “This your goddamn house!!” she screams.
I shake my head slowly turning away from my mother, walking toward the window in the room “No momma, this place is not my home, it is not where I am suppose to be…It is not where I belong” I say as I look out the window, staring at the sky, admiring the clouds, the stars in the sky, the action in the lights. My mother is clearly baffled because I hear it in her voice when she speaks “Boy, I don’t know what’s wrong with you but you’ve got to get over it, hell if this ain’t your home where the hell IS your home??” I turn my head to look at her with a smile in my face and a tear in my eye. I point to the sky. I point to the stars in the night and tell my momma “Sugar Candy mountain momma, my house is a home on Sugar Candy Lane…”

The concern grows wider, quickly she tells me everything is going to be alright “Everything is gonna be just fine baby, you just let me take care of things okay.” Fumbling through the pages of the phone book she looks for the doctor’s number, she finds the number, reaches for the phone. “No mother” I say. My voice is calm yet sad and resigned. “Don’t call the Doctor. I know what I have to do now. I know where I’ve got to go. I know where I must stay and live.” Mother begins to weep. I comfort her and through her tears and sobs she asks me “But why baby?? Why do you want to go to this Sugar Mountain place? Why on earth do you want to leave this earth so BADLY!!!” I rub her back trying to comfort her speaking softly, speaking calmly, speaking with the utmost gentleness and speaking with the utmost care, “It’s the game mother, it's the goddam game” I say. “You mean Poker?” she ask. “Yes, the poker game mother” I say. “Oh but baby you don’t have to play poker you—“, I cut her off “But I DO have to play poker mother!! I DO have to play because if I don’t play the game the game will play me and I’ll die a lonely and bitter man. Don’t you get it mother, can’t you see the writing on the wall, the chips on the table, the cards in your hand!!!” “Baby I don’t understand,” my mother retorts, “I don’t see any of that stuff, I just don’t” I sigh and take her hand in mine, rubbing it gently, rubbing it soft, “I know mother, I know you don’t see it momma, but it’s their mother, it really is, trust me, the chips, the cards, the table, it’s all there right before our very own eyes, right before MY very own eyes, yet we don't see it because it hides in the shadows and walks at night. ”

I stand up looking at the poker chips scattered across the floor, looking at the mess I made through my anger. A sharp pain stabs me in the stomach, it hurts, it really fucking hurts, I clench my stomach in agony, and the pain brings me to my knees. My mother runs over to me, begging me to stay with her, pleading with me not to go to that place, that moutain on the other side of the world, and through clench teeth I tell her I’m not going anywhere, I tell her I’m going to play the game, I’m going to beat the house, I’m going to win the GODDAM GAME!!!

This puts a smile on her face as she helps me off the floor and into the living room, lying me down on the couch. “Let me fix you something to eat hun, what do you want?” I smile at her and say it doesn’t matter, “Fix whatever you want” I say.  As she cooks in the kitchen I lay on the sofa, thinking about Sugar Candy Mountain, imagining my house on Sugar Candy lane in that far away world, that distant place over the mountain, that distant place over the moon.

Poker is such a nasty and ugly game, but it doesn’t have to make me nasty and ugly. The world doesn’t have to make me into a monster.  If I play the game right, if I’m patient, I can win a good amount of chips and never have to play the house again. I’ll never have to deal with those people in the house for as long as I live.

“Here you go sugar” my momma brings me a bowl of soup and a bowl of grits. “Thanks mom,” I say. My mother looks at me and smiles, she gives me a kiss on the cheek, “Oh you’re welcome baby, now hurry up and eat your food before it gets cold.” I eat my food and I rest. I sleep and I dream.