Lucky LarryA Poem by PeteActual person that I know.Larry is seventy-five. Just trying to survive. I tell you no jive. Fancy's himself a ladies man like his Dad. Still caught up in the fad. Lives in the shelter. Luck running hot like an arctic swelter. Been there for three years with his wife and son. Still not done. Grew up in his old man's barbershop. With just a little off the top. Playing cards in the back room between philandering, bookmaking and cutting hair. All handled impeccably with a stylish flair. Worked as a numbers runner. A real neighborhood stunner. Has a line of credit at the corner store. So he can gamble more. Scratch tickets, Keno and state's numbers. Soup kitchen salads with extra cucumbers. Just one more bet. Hold the regret. He know's the value of a buck. And how to conjure up luck. Goes to the doctor claiming to be in pain. Hoping for gain. Fills the prescription and sells the pills. More to bet to cure all of his ills. Gets his government check on the first. Can't figure why his finances are cursed. Already owes the store one-fifty. Kinda shifty. On the hook with storage for another one-fifty. How nifty. Always in the hole. But has a goal. Someday soon gonna hit it real big. Be rollin' in it like a fat, stuck pig. Fingers sore from scratching tickets. Legs bowed like a case of rickets. Yeah, Larry lives in the shelter. Amidst all the helter-skelter. Been there for a little bit of time. Because he can't save a dime. Thank Heaven not all of life is cash and carry. Especially if you're ... ... Lucky Larry ... © 2019 PeteAuthor's Note
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3 Reviews Added on February 24, 2019 Last Updated on February 28, 2019 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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