opportunity
sits in
my
den
and
says
“so what
you
going to do
this time?”

I look at
my pan,
bacon cooking
and sizzling,
and chuckle
him off

“don’t know,
bub”

“haha”
he laughs
“just hope
you don’t *****
it up
like every
other
time”

“yeah”
I say,
despondent,
“me
too”

and I serve
the bacon with
some eggs,
sit down
at the table
looking in at the
den,
and opportunity
watches the evening
news, waiting for
the day's lotto
numbers