The Lord approacheth, the Lord passeth by
The Lord confronts that counter
And Tommy the tired old cashier starts to
Ask "what can I get you today--
But the words break
That countenance shatters them
"Give me some scratchers, sir please, the dollar ones"
Thus sayeth the Lord
Thus sayeth him whose
Way was by the sea, whose gait in the first garden
Was the first gamble, the right gamble
The wheel of fortune spinneth
The center does not hold--
"Thank you, Tom"
And the Lord leaves that store
But he was kept from recognizing him
Whose mysterium tremendum
Still goes boink! in the night still
Incarnates: mangers and lotteries and the whole bit
What will he find, he who scratcheth
Me by blinding lights in somber nights?
A million, or just a thousand, small fortune
Greatness, such inventiveness is man?
Or ten dollars for a quarter tank
Two bucks for a Coke or
One free ticket, my hour has not yet come?
Could be it's a loser: can't be redeemed
Gathered up for the fire to be burned
Tomorrow's trash day?
Or maybe, just maybe
The Lord riggeth, the Lord winnith
Not spinnith
And he is making all things new
Even one untimely born
Slouching once more to Bethlehem
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