(In response to this week’s Living Poetry Prompt.)
I play the lottery
for those hours or days
between buying the ticket
and learning the results.
Before the ping pong balls
are set a spinning
I am a potential winner,
deciding how to spend
or invest, pay off a car
or the mortgage,
vacation in Monte Carlo
or Macau.
Like an early romance,
anticipating each date,
each kiss, imagining
what glorious wonders
lie ahead. That hope
carries on like inertia
through the wedding
until the fated
numbers are drawn,
my flaws revealed
and Schrödinger’s cat
gets divorced.
Yet I keep playing
every week.
The cat! No!
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The cat, both yes and no!
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