Double down, he says. I'm not sure why

but am afraid to admit for fear of being found out 

by these people who fly through the neon like supernovas,

fiery in their delivery and dismissals, and by him

who grabs what he wants not by its pony tail,

but full-on front embracing, no, becoming the king

to live on tithes hubba hubba.

I mind the risk he takes, slamming

his hand on the table when I sweep mine away

like a kid playing slapsies. We frown in tandem.