I pick
the short straw, again.
I get Shirley Jackson's black
dot
on the slip
of paper.
I roll snake eyes.
draw a duce not an ace
to fill out the royal straight.
I go under
the ladder.
the black cat scurries
in front of me.
there's not a single number
on my
ticket
to claim the lottery.
the spin of the wheel
brings up red, not
black.
but i'm lucky in love,
right?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment