Halloween night,
Primo closed the pocket doors
To the dining room
For a game of Pinocle    
To continue between he,
His chum Eskimo Ed & me.
“Have a little trick-and-meld.”
The ashtray spilled over:
Hand-rolled cannabis stogies,
Half-smoked roaches
They were passing to each other,
Across the table to me.
Pinocle was confusing already.
48 cards, tricks & melds,
Marriages & flushes, bidding.

They both seemed to know
The cards I held in my hand,
Kept telling me
Which cards to play next.  
“No, not that one,
Play the other one.”
Spoke in a secret dialect.
Shuffling and shuffling.
Took turns dealing.
Both laughed madly,
Slapping suits on the table.

Before long, the game
Took on mystical implications
In this spell of paganism.
The cards came to life
When the veil between worlds
Was at its thinnest.
Faces on face cards
Spoke to me: Jack of Diamonds,
Queen of Spades, King of Hearts,
Images in a dream.
Cards that fell on the table
Spoke in cryptic secrets.
I was afraid, & needed to escape
Into the Halloween night.