i'm sorry that my heartbeat sounds like pennies echoing into a well.
fists are the only things that fill my pockets--
i had to call my mother to ask for money today
after apologizing that i forgot her birthday;
i'm wretched. my mystic friend tells me
that seeing 13.13.13 is an omen of wishes coming true. i saw it yesterday,
but i've been rolling snake eyes for as long as i remember.
but change comes. you're morning sun outside casino doors,
dancing past the roulette wheels and settling in my chest. i suppose
there's no reason now to spend my coins on slot machines,
on artificial lights, when you linger for me there;
i have nothing to give you but a heart full of pocket change;
you could pick it up off the ground, but you pierce through clouds
to shine on me-- in the shadows you cast there's a lucky 13.