A Gambler’s Faith
Having mistaken blind luck for skill
coincidence assailed you with sufficient force
to persuade that some instinctive will
would ensure henceforth you picked the winning horse;
that you’d realise a life full of pleasure
indulgence and rest,
future bank statements the perfect measure
to set you apart as the best
of punters. Superior to me,
you assumed fate would underwrite the cost
of wagering, thought investments would leave you free
to saunter and swagger, to boast
about what you’d buy, the holidays you’d take,
all funded by the money you’d inevitably make.