When the roulette ball hops into your slot

And goes around with you 

Until the great wheel stops,

Will you care that someone's bet on you?

Will you assume the ball is through with you

And be mistrustful when you see

The operator spinning the wheel again

And sending the ball out free to some other fate?

Will you hate the ball for choosing you,

And then going out and landing in 

Some other number, too?

Would you prefer the ball

Never had fallen into your number?

Will you prefer anything or nothing at all,

Or is it all the same to you

In the great game of roulette,

And the spinning of the great wheel of life itself?

Or will you say Love is nothing at all

Like a spinning wheel or a bouncing ball,

But more rather like the roulette operator

Who looks over and winks

At the black-jack dealer and says,

"My shift's over later. Wanna go catch a movie, and a late, late dinner?"

-jenn