The Gods of Randomness

I invoke the gods of randomness:

a pile of blue, red, and yellow

rubberbands; a small magnet

that wants to stick

to everything; patience;

blue ink on fingers; a bag

of regular flavor beef jerky;

a clock three minutes too slow;

the hum of electricity;

the silence and blackness

of when it suddenly ceases;

long rows of chairs vacant

for a lecture of air molecules;

a humanoid made of felt

with arms akimbo

and dressed in clouds

and the late morning sun;

newspapers careening

on the tabletop; a small garden

designed by mimosa;

a garden bench occupied

by a witness; a photograph

of a line

of red tip matches

ablaze.