fate and
lady luck had a baby named
disaster
and let him run the world
while they stayed in bed at nights
and ate
matzoh ball soup and
drank
raspberry seltzer.
sometimes i can hear this kid whispering
in my ear and telling me with
a
snide kind of voice all the things
he's going to love doing to me.
because, you see, he's got his
daddy's face
and his
mommy's eyes
he's got uncle mayhem's grip and
mother nature's sense of irony.
it's funny for him and i like to play along
but sometimes he goes too far and
on nights like those i sit in the
bar
drinking for dinner and talk about
cause and effect
how
this leads to
that but not always
and sometimes things
go awry
and disaster at the booth
watches with his daddy's grin
orders the check and finishes his
gin and tonic,
tips well,
moves on.