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Anais Vionet Nov 13
(a university-life vignette)

It’s a Friday night, Leong and I are at a small restaurant close to the dorm called “Ordinary.” We’re in a cozy, pleasantly dark, little red booth—waiting for Lisa—who’s running late. This is Leong’s favorite bar and her taste in exotic drinks is labile—tonight she has us drinking ‘Maker’s Mark,’ a delicious, straight-up bourbon, with a twist of orange peel.

We’re on our second—and I’m starting to buzz—did I mention Lisa’s running late? On a hot note, we’re celebrating. I turned in the first draft of my thesis prospectus last Wednesday and this morning I got it back - accepted.

But more importantly, when I tore into the envelope, back in my room, there was a yellow sticky-note on the prospectus that read like an academic valentine. It said:
“Anais, you write beautifully, with the economy of a poet.”
I may have danced around my room.

So, we’re sitting there, sipping our drinks and noshing on a charcuterie platter when this cute, hipster, Princeton transfer-student guy named Milo showed up—drink in hand. He’s like, 5 '11 with light-brown medium-longish hair tucked behind his ears and he’s wearing a light blue, textured cardigan over a tan t-shirt and leaf-green work pants. At first, he’s walking by, but he spots us and stops.

“Has anyone ever told you look like Anais Vionet?” He asked me.
“No,” I replied, “never.” “You sound like her too,” he followed up.
“Well, I wouldn’t know,” I answered, shaking my head ‘no’ and shrugging.
“But she’d never come to a dive this cheap,” he updogged.
“Oh, yes she would,” I assured him.

Then, I gasped, remembering. Milos on one of Yale’s 500 soccer teams. “You guys lost to Princeton the other day! Isn’t that your alma mater? Congratulations!”
“Thanks, for bringing that up,” he said somewhat chagrined,
“We lost one-to-nil—it was just bad luck,” he said defensively.
“Oh, bad luck,” I chided him.

He did look tired and defeated, so I motioned him to take a seat. He slid right in next to Leong, who’s hand he shook, “Milo,” he said.
“I KNOW,” she said, in a sly and evil way—we’ve talked about him, conspiratorially—even she thinks he’s cute—and cross-culturally-cute isn’t easy.

“Are you superstitious?” Milo asked us—turning so Leong was included.
“Oh, sure,” I spoke first, “I was raised catholic, and even if you don’t hundo-p believe, it carries over. I always carry a lucky crystal with me—you know, for tests and what-not—I depend on that, as opposed to diligence and studying.”

“You have one with you now?” He followed up.
“I do,” I confessed, “I always have one in my bra.”
“Wow,” he laughed, “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I chuckled, “For luck—in case I need to appear supper fun and sassy? Though I guess I’m proof crystals don’t work.”
“Do you really have a crystal in your bra?” He asked, sipping his whisky.
“Yeah,” I said, sliding my hand discreetly into my left cup and bringing out a tiny, flat green, polished Jade stone crystal. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” He asked.
“Nah, there’s plenty of room in there,” I admitted, sliding the crystal back in place.

“Leong’s superstitious,” I said, nodding to her.
“All Chinese are superstitious,” Leong pronounced, “whenever I had a big exam at school, my mother would go and leave a chicken at the temple.”
Milo and I chortled—I’d actually seen women do that when I lived in Shenzhen.
“Well, I guess it worked!” Milo pronounced, and he and Leong high-fived.
“We have a saying, ‘it’s better to be lucky than good,” he added.
We say, “Yùnqì zhòngyàoguò nénglì,” Leong noted, in Cantonese.
“Luck is more important than ability,” I translated.
Speaking of luck, Lisa finally arrived.
.
.
Songs for this:
Where Are You by 54 Ultra
Cut Glass by mark william lewis
Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 11/12/24:
Labile = open to change.

My thesis topic is "Molecular dynamics simulations of protein folding (or protein-protein interactions)." It isn't easy to give it a poetic twist.

Our cast:
Leong, (roommate) 21, is from Macau, China - the Las Vegas of Asia and she’s a proud communist (don’t knock it til you’ve tried it). She's a ‘molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major.’ I speak Cantonese—which may be why we were paired—I lived in Shenzhen China (about 30 miles from Macau) - we talk a lot of secret trash together.

Lisa, (roommate) 21, my bff. Grew up in a posh, 50th floor residence on Central Park South in Manhattan. She shares my major (Molecular biophysics and biochemistry) and is easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in RL (and is sensitive about it). Our tastes match, in everything (fashion, media, music, humor) except men.
Mercy Nov 3
Heads or Tails? 
Call it, 
Tails. 
Another flip, 
Heads or Tails? 
Call it, 
Once more, Tails. 
A final toss, 
Heads or Tails? 
Call it, 
This time, Heads. 
1 in 8 for this pattern, 
50 percent, 
the mirage of certainty, 
the Gambler’s fallacy, 
a delicate dance with fate, 
try and try again, 
there is always uncertainty. 
time passes,
the stakes grow higher, 
chaos ensues,
the odds are stacked, 
and the heart races, 
fortune smiles and frowns, 
the game is relentless,
play despite the odds, 
every loss carries a lesson, 
every win, a fleeting high, 
With every flip, a new chance emerges, 
the gamble continues, 
fate is unpredictable,
who knows what awaits us? 
Only Lady Luck knows, 
In this endless cycle, 
Enjoy the unknown
kel Oct 31
icy wind, creeping in;
peeking out, pupils dilating.
the freezing cold, killin';
chirping of the birds, dying.

a blurry silhouette
skating around, freely.
playing russian roulette;
any step can break my measly-
and fragile heart.

infatuation to falling in love
I'll never have enough of him.
a love story getting wove
trying my best to get that chance
to creep into his heart
and make him feel what I feel.
Karma Oct 9
Luck of the draw,
Lucked out from flaws,
Lucky is the breaking mirror.

How unfortunate for the Clover
Whose wind had brought her nearer

To the black cat,
The camp of bats,
The magpie who points destination
To a rainbow through a latter
While chirping present ticks in fascination.

How unfortunate for the Clover
Whose vision couldn’t be clearer.

She saw the birds fly west, then east;
She saw the trail the ****** left
On its rampant quest to feast
On flesh, on glass, on salt, on past
Memories of serendipity
And the seven years of misery
The mirror lost, all at the cost
Of pondering his love.

Its ink would run, and pages dry,
Its eyes would trace a butterfly
Of clouds of clay and molded slates
And the most impressive of junior art.
But it all mattered not,
For despite where was the start-

The broken reflection
Only showed a tattered angel.. with four wings-
How lucky to find a Clover here-
To have been seen by a Clover here-
To have been seen.
She wanders the lost streets of her city
She was looking for the shining lights of Las Vegas
But this streets here a gritty
The City that is for its casinos famous

She went through hell
Just to visit Las Vegas and its lights
She loved the city's spell
The sound of the slot machines in the nights

And at next morning she tells with a fragile voice
I was in Las Vegas, the city of lights, yes I was there
I was at the place of my choice
She said she loved the flair

But actually she wanders through her lost youth
She wanders through a fake reality
But she didn't wanted to know the truth
She lived her live in duality

But the day came, where she didn't came back from her trip
She had never luck at the slot machines in Las Vegas
In her hand her last chip
To everyone she was nobody, to us she was famous
Jeremy Betts Jun 28
Any second now,
I could come face to face with an enemy
Sent by a deity
With the soul purpose to immediately
End this agony
But I can guarantee
I'm not that lucky

©2024
Cutezeni Apr 30
How lucky is my cat
Always tranquil, always sleeping
No worries of the world seeping
I am worried I have to write this story
About war and its glory
But I am just a girl who likes fiction,
Why is there so much friction?
I don’t want to understand the lessons of the war,
I don’t care about it,
What was it even for?
Going against the tide the book said,
But I like going with the flow
Breaking bounds and ceilings
With my believings
And a will to learn and live
Through life and its lessons
Not through going against my feelings.
Let me write fiction in peace. Thanks.
Pax Mar 30
A faulty start, I lost all my stars
Personally, I became a recluse
Truly afraid to be abuse.
Envious of some solemn luck,
            In love, I am an ugly duck.
I **** in many ways,
seems no one is able to stay.
                     Its okay.
Just pretend, as you did not hear
            Do not count me, as I am not here.
   Moreover, hide as if I did not know your there.
So do not love me as if you needed me
       Just love me sincerely
       Or else better don’t
       I am better alone - anyways….
Thank you for all those who still read me. I am not as active as I used to be, to write and read, alot. Perhaps I became the star who lost all will to light up or the mandane things got me numb in many things. I am sorry for that.

this one is the continuation of the previous piece...
Little Leprechaun I don't want your gold in your little black *** and don't want your wishes with your sketchy after thoughts. I would just like your heartfelt friendship and a little luck.
Michel Robert Triska copyright 2024
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