Faces

My father and uncle sitting cross-legged around circles complemented with beer cans. The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol consumes the air. One of my uncle with a cigarette in his mouth deals. A deal sealed, you can never take it back. Whoever made the deal must win or pay. Either or, either or. Faces, some red some smiling some dark some pale, face each other and onto facing the face of the dice facing the ceiling. The rattling of dice in bowls sounding like rattle snakes rattling: the click-clacking of venom. A strike into the heart with a bite. A bad omen. Dollar signs are on the line: who will take all that cash, all those chips? These color-coded tokens of yellow, red, white, and blue, have faces of dollar signs. The American faces on grassy-green bills show $20 on each of the sides of the rectangle: back and front with the front facing up. 2-dimensional. Stacks of them on carpet floor. American presidents on these leaf papers face these new refugees who've just come in. Faces around the circle face those faces of the currents of history printed and value instilled. Say "Hello" or "A-lo" to a pot of gold? Jackpot? Andrew Jackson? Jack Nguyen? Their eyes on the prize, in-n-out and between them, only them.