the luck of the draw

after decades and decades of poverty
as I now approach the lip of the
grave,
suddenly I have a home, a new car, a
spa, a swimming pool, a computer.

will this destroy me?
well, something is bound to destroy
me soon enough.

the boys in jails, the slaughterhouses,
the factories, on the park benches, in the
post offices, the bars,
would never believe me
now.

I have a problem believing myself.
I am no different now
than I was in the tiny rooms of
starvation and madness.
the only difference
is that I am
older.
and I drink better
wine.
and the rest is nonsense,
the luck of the
draw.

a life can change in the tenth of
a second.
or sometimes it can take
70
years.

by Charles Bukowski
from Betting on the Muse, Poems & Stories

I like Bukowski’s style of writing. He writes words that are almost silent, or screaming with terror and madness. This poem resonated with me. I am 74. Circumstance(s) change, and time is relentless. Taking the measure of my circumstances, I too am lucky. Life worked out for me.

Not everyone rolls a 7 or 11.

Don Henley performs his song New York Minute.