Cars raced past, as I patiently waited,
Nervous and filled with distrust;
At a crossing where crossing, is now designated,
This courier of fortune, now fresh out of luck.
I pick up my pace, as a man on a mission,
My thoughts now a vortex of possible fates;
To visit this office, a long planned decision,
The matter at hand, and providence now dictate.
The doors opened freely, I entered within,
To the cheers of firm staffers, with welcoming smiles;
Word had spread quickly, to my eyes and chagrin,
At the expense of my privacy, my name now beguiled.
The anteroom sanctum, of polite pushy haste,
Contained serious suits, who’d not rise from their seats,
Till proof be their witness, no moment to waste,
And the breech of my privacy, little more than deceit.
Careful inspection and lens, confirmed my declare,
Faces stiffened to stifle, any emotional urge;
Outside call to far voices, and numbers compared,
Second—no third, cross checks, math again now confirmed.
Moods shifted quickly, as the truth came to pass,
To great cheers and some fanfare, till ushered away;
With military precision, and much tinted glass,
Police guarding me and ticket, from mayhem this day.
Since winning the big one, I’ve gained many friends,
Of people who once were at best, quite estranged;
Now calling me sir, with no memory of then,
Nine figures—now handsome, in a sick sort of way.
