Promises in a burlap bag
slung over your shoulder
offering three for dollar
(I've already heard it twice before)
Maybe this time I will be lucky

I found a penny heads up,
but didn't have the sense to pick it up

Still an echo spins atop a broken record
repeating the same chorus
no matter what song is playing
that all are tired of hearing by now

Oldies but goodies are just as bad
as the first time you heard them

Spinning yarns
in coloful fabric weaves,
braided possibilities that never
seem to shrink in the wash

The button for gentle cycle
broke a long time ago

But there is always that chance
when we lean on words
hoping they support the message
delivered once again

*Chances are like matches,
using the last one is always bad luck