The Lottery Game

That lucky day is out there, and someone has to win!

A numbers game for dreamers when their dreams are stretching thin.

When you play the lottery you’ll hear all sorts of tales;

of lightning strikes and shark attacks more likely to prevail.

But yet! That gleaming glow machine – that singing siren: “Try your luck!”

You haven’t stashed your cash just yet and hell, it’s just a buck.

But you’re not paying for the chance to be a millionaire –

it’s that momentary thrill before that ticket greets your stare.

~TH~

Feb. 16, 2015

cash_bucket_sm

The Post Modern Treatment

Do not decorate your rooms with false shields and flimsy swords, it dishonors all warriors, from every allied army and every enemy tribe.  Better to hang pitted swords and patina shields, rusted with dry blood.  From these a tale is spun, either in mind alone or late from the host when the fire goes low.  This room will then describe itself in honor.

– – OR – –

…you could go with a post-modern treatment, which is always seen as timeless yet classic.  Would you like to see the kitchen next?  ~TH~

Doppelgänger Dom

I glanced over and recognized him – Dom, someone between acquantance and friend.  He glanced back, with a look that said he might know me as well.  His name almost fell from my mouth, just as my brain engaged solidly, locking in my error.  That’s not Dom!

Not so much embarrassed as bewildered I looked away, giving too much attention to the cream I was pouring into my coffee.  The Dom I know while not gregarious, would have engaged.  I dared not look again for re-confirmation, thus confirming for Doppelgänger Dom that I was quite possibly touched in the head.

Taking my seat I discovered that the service island in the coffee shop blocked my view to he and his companion.  Damn!  Maybe it is Dom; maybe I pissed him off the last time we spoke.  Not unlikely given my poor social graces, but Dom is known for his calm and clement demeanor.  I would surely recall an act so egregious that even he would find no forgiveness for the slight.

Move out of the way you sugar hog, I can almost see him from the corner of my eye!

Finally, my angst-riddled patience paid off.  There he stood – taller than Dom, less ebullient than Dom.  Doppelgänger Dom made no salutation toward me, this crazy man typing in the corner.  Having cleaned up their table, I watched as Doppelgänger Dom and his companion walked out the door.    ~TH~

—Once more I analyze the internal voice that is constantly restructuring everything I observe, that voice that attempts to make sense of what other people might be thinking.  I still fervently believe that more often than not, that little voice gets it wrong.—  ~T~

My Life * A Series *

Engage, then disengage
This is my repeated policy,
enacted of it's own accord.

Engage, then disengage
You are important, we are no thing-
suddenly, no us.
Engage, then disengage
A salutary smile and then I'm gone-
and you are too.
Engage, then disengage
I'm selfish.  I'm greedy.
I want all of time to be mine.
* * *   * * *   * * *
This was written last summer during a period of 'office work'
outdoors. The fine weather of summer in Fairview PA often 
lures me out of the office, so I at least attempt to be 
productive, while actually wanting to roll in the grass and
look at the clouds. Don't worry, I'm still manly; I often do
pushups as well. Here is another missive written that same
day. ~TH~