After a long while, I’ve written a poem. 🙂 The last time was in 2023. I’m trying to write a little bit every day. Hope you like it.

LUCKY

“Welcome to Las Vegas” the sign blinks in neon.

I am wearing my Lucky sweatshirt when I land.

It looks old and cheap but

I paid a lot to buy it distressed with holes in it.

I meet my parents at Paris (the hotel)–

not Paris (the city).

(I took them once to Paris the city

and they were not too impressed.

I guess it was too boring for them.)

Unlike Paris the city,

Paris the hotel has skies that are always painted blue

and day or night the lights are bright

and there is the promising cacophony of slot machines.

It is smoky there and it makes my eyes water.

I used to lecture them about gambling until one day

I realized that they have always been gamblers.

After all, what sort of people leave their motherland

for a foreign continent

with only a few dollars in their pockets?

Once they walked on dirty streets with bare feet…

of course they don’t take money seriously.

Somehow they raised 4 children from nothing at all,

and still, when I was little,

they handed me coins to make wishes at fountains.

Now I think maybe throwing coins into slot machines

is something like that.

The next day we are walking on the Vegas strip.

Mum is 76 but you wouldn’t know it, so impatient, in her leopard-print pants.

Dad is almost 80, going on 8, grumpy from too much walking.

I feel like a mother again though

my own children are full grown adults (too soon) with jobs,

already worrying about gas and housing prices.

I thought I’d take my parents on a shopping spree

but like toddlers they say “no, no, no!”

All I am able to buy is a pair of Ray-Bans for Dad

that remind me of sunglasses he wore in pictures from 1973.

(He was young and cool and more serious.)

This in no way repays them for anything so

I also hand them envelopes of cash

and tell them to enjoy themselves.

I used to say “you need to save for an emergency,

you need to save for retirement”,

but the days have come and gone so fast that

suddenly it is an emergency

because they are far into retirement.

It took me too long to see that

they had already hit the jackpot in this silly game of life.

It was always like Monopoly money to them.

“Have fun”, I say, “don’t stay up too late”,

as I go to my room for the night

because I’m less fun and don’t like to gamble.

On the last day, at sunset,

I take them to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris (the hotel)—

not Paris (the city).

I take their picture amidst the technicolor vista.

The sky is full of gold behind them.

Dad’s suit is too big for him;

Mum is squinting too much when she smiles.

They are so cute, I think,

and remember again my son and daughter

when they were small.

Later at the restaurant we watch the fountains dancing

at the Bellagio Hotel.

I say cheers with Mum and watch Dad

enjoy his early birthday ice cream.

I am very proud of them

for being so immature for their age.

It is not smoky there but it makes my eyes water.

I pay for dinner with my fancy credit card.

I walk on the dirty streets with my gold shoes.

I stop at the Bellagio fountain to make a wish,

the sky full of diamonds above me.