VII. Shooting Craps

I  can still picture the pair of fuzzy dice swinging
from my little orange Karmann Ghia’s rearview mirror.
I never knew whether to show seven pointing ahead
or pointing backward at me.  I couldn’t make it show
both ways at once, so from time to time, I would switch it,
back and forth, back and forth, sometimes
the good luck coming, spring after a Wisconsin winter,
sometimes the good luck pointing behind.

She knew the roller of big cigars personally, played tennis with Tennyson,
could deal with any Romantic, had whipped the Spiritus Mundi into submission,
lion tamer of all poetry, on top of her translation of Beowulf pastime.

This time I rolled the dice with my shoyu chicken recipe. I knew the way
to a Midwestern woman’s heart, I thought, but it turned out to be
the one for disaster, good fortune blasting past me, missing my head.

* * * * *

Aloha #WriterSaturday. Today’s #WritingPrompt is


Use it to inspire a piece of writing, any style, and length, and then post that piece on your site and link back to me, or simply leave it as a comment below. I would love to read it : )

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