The people screamed
At the focal point of their lives,
"Choose me choose me
Oh great and powerful little ball"
But the ball could not help them
Any more than it could help the number
On its plastic surface.
Then fate or God or Camelot
Chose twenty million losers,
And they all went home in silence
To mourn another week without salvation
But later in their sadness and incomprehension
They somehow forgot
that Mystic Meg had been wrong again
And bought another ticket.
© 1996 Michael Aidulis all rights reserved