Way back in the previous century,
I soloed Saturdays in the office
of an international wire service,
posted there to cover the newfangled
California lottery.

I’d have the TV on, glancing up
from my huge CRT monitor
at the Big Spin, a game show-style
program where lucky Californians
hoping for a big win got to twirl
a huge roulette wheel mounted
vertically for the camera—
all the force of their hope
thrumming through their arm.

Lucky ones went home with something,
though nothing like the millions
now coursing around the state
as people put money down on a series
of numbers that they hope will make
them rich.

Now, on a Momday of driving and
dropping her off at appointments,
as I fuel up her car, the vertically
spinning numbers stop precisely
at $47. And when I go inside to claim
my three dollars in change, the clerk
hands it to me saying,
That’s lottery ticket kinda luck.

I chuckle, head back outside to look
again at the digits lined up neatly
on the pump, and think,
Why not?

I go back inside with my three bucks
and say to the same clerk,
What kind of tickets can I get for this?

She laughs, points to the $2
scratchers, then the $1 ones,
or, she says, I can also have three
shots at the big jackpot, hovering
around $500 million at the moment,
though I’d have to stand there
and choose a hopeful combination
of numbers.

Needing to retrieve Mom, I land
on the fastest option—two brightly
decorated scratchers—imagining how
long the odds might be to even win
back my three bucks.

Good luck! grins the clerk.

And before I even get in the car,
before I scratch those little cards,
I behold the delighted smiles and squeals
of people who once spun the big
wheel on TV and went home with
a little more cash in their pockets
and a little more faith in their
brilliantly lucky stars.