All the lucky ones were the luckers.
They lucked out everything on the first bullet to the bullseye.
They didn’t need to shoulder slipping loads of slime,
Wait for hours for a turn to say or hear words they didn’t pine
Or try again at the hurting fourth or fifth go,
For not getting right at the indifference of a warped, backwards toll.
Luckers disappear completely at the right place and time
No hurry in a pickle
When meeting the pestilent drunk and deranged.
Luckers were fantastic, voicing chirps of agreeable notes
Saw laughter relatively close and bonus winnings come towed
While it all boils effortless to the watchers who could only blink and cry.
Lucky, lucky, lucky, four leaf clovers smoothed them over
Tamed their frazzled hair and mind, the auto dispenser kind.
Cinder blocks house their feet straightening up their backs
Over empire state they have stood to sponsor and compose.
Every year, lady luck made sure luckers’ birthdays never pass without love and attention
More than three dozens of handful wishes must show up as “handy” guide to their presents.
If I was unlucky, the luckers wouldn’t know
Why, it was unlucky to know what is unlucky
Luckers habituate the habit of lucky.
- Vander