It's just—no use
trying
to convince the faint grimacing
and stout
capped old-
timer
outside on the stoop—
who's squinting
hunched and narrow-
eyed—a flurry
of pinched fingers—
over a ritualized
lunch break prize
scratch-and-win ticket—
that it's too
late—he's long since
bet everything
he'd ever been
capable
of gaining—
and won.
