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Read a poem by another poet written
on the same day:
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August draws to a close;
i must say
i will not miss it.
unexpected domain [?] has kept me light
and sleepy.
yesterday danika the poet and i drove to Portland
for Powerball tickets
4 hours and one hellacious traffic jame
later … we were too late. off to a rest
stop for much needed sleep. what strange and chancy reason
to make a trip: lottery tickets! green eyes come running from the thicket
where sharks and crowds hold
their season what's the first thing you will buy
if you win the $280 million?
please responses and will imagination
leave us already broke and
victim's of Sam's damn tax scheme. and when the time came to
match the numbers with their brethren
found on an inundated website,
i checked the numbers, swore,
threw the ticket away, and smiled
at my poverty-stricken poet friend.
"we can always drive down
for the next one," i say.
she frowns, pouting, not wanting to have
to go again. but with scant smile i pause,
pull out my schedule,
make sure the day is clear,
then smile of my accord—
it's not the reward, it's the way you get there
with friends pacing your very tread.
of course, i think, ripping up my
useless ticket,
i never want to get rich this way
anyway.
i just wanted a companion
on a vain trip
in and out of the land of poverty.
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