Monday, January 4, 2010

Lotto by Prof. Stephanie Packer



I fixed on my numbers too soon.

Twenty-five years ago when the games began

They shone with the fire of algebraic proof

Flaming youth.

How could such six sure figures ever lose?

They never lost.

Just haven’t won.

If not this draw

Then the next next next next next next next.

All things come in their moment.

Once we won fifty-six dollars.

Why persist?

Money can’t help us.

We have enough.

Millions would only bedevil us with empty space of maybe.

Titanium chores, the black diamond.

Enough is enough.

Still we buy two tickets each week

Religiously

Too spooked to quit.

Wednesday, Saturday: “Honey, did you get them?”

Like doubtful Catholics off to Mass each week,

Sunday morning finds us blinking

Grudging faithful

At the communion rail.

Three coats of crimson brace our front door.

Feng shu’i couldn't hurt

But so many things could.

Flame poinciana out front

Pride and joy

Split by a boltage of September voltage.

“Two minutes sooner, it could have been you.”

It came out of nowhere.

It came from the blue.

There was nothing we could do.

Still we buy our chances

Religiously.

He leans them against a brushed gold frame

Like pictures of saints who

Were

But are not.

Saints null and void.

Saint Christopher still rides the dashboards.

How to kick fear from the heart?

Or hope?

It’s not done.

Too late, anyway.

Change, late remedy, now enemy.

Bolt your doors, people of the village!

Lie low!

It’s mad.

We have all we need.

A simple life of our choosing.

What more to ask?

What more?

Just

To live without losing.

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