Gamblers who'd run out of the money

We walked the streets, my mother & I

Still, the lights were bright

The boulevards wide

For pennies we could hide all day

In dark theatres

Losing ourselves in the romantic images

That hovered, silvery gray

Possessing the richness of angels

At nightfall we'd leave the Hall of Mirrors

To walk the crowded blocks

To a burger joint where the waitress grieved

For her boyfriend

Lost in the snowy wars to the East

m. shepler