My parents would
Visit Las Vegas
When I was young
During Christmas
To see such things
Barely noticed
But now in this mind
Appear strange,

Like grey arcades
Needing light
With sounds so faint
Leaving echoes
Letting liminal space
Draw its contrast
Between innocence
And jaded adults –

Hearing children cry
Waiting still
Down abandoned halls
Staying hidden
Among sad machines
Lacking power
Or that neon glow
Far away

Where grown-ups bet
Bitter dreams
Leading broken lives
Unfulfilling
As kids brought there
Went unnoticed
While playing alone
In those rooms,

Watching moms and dads
Wasting cash
Missing better times
Spent together
Swearing someday soon
After growing
Their souls would hate
What they viewed

Before smokey dens
Called them back
Beating buffet lines
Feeling hungry
Keeping so much more
Than expected
Winning lots
But losing all faith.

• J. Pigno