We are not forced to throw the first stone
but we toss a coin into a fountain
fishing for luck in the wishes we make.
We are not segregated
into worker bees and queens
opportunity gives us a path
to step over boundaries and lines
holding our breath, as our fortune is ordained by fate.
A trickster with gnarled hands
the smoky haze
of a fortune teller’s lounge
our senses casting nets to catch our lot
fingers crossed that a fluke will pass us by.
Lucky stars in the sky
do we choose our luck?
The coin earlier pocketed
standing next to a fountain
water flowing like conscious thought.
Waiting for our hand to be dealt
our role to be cast
to toss the coin
at what we want.