Lucky

[couchgrouch]

LuckyI was sippin' my club soda, in this saloon one nightwearing my old Seger shirt, with the small hole in the sidewell, some gal sat down-a-hopin', I'd tab us both a beershe wore Avon and an outfit, from the softer side of Searswhen she saw my old t-shirt, that nearly killed the dealasked why I wore something so worn, and I said, "well, it makes me feellucky, and God knows I need itlucky, when I feel defeatedyeah, this worthless thingsomehow helps me seem lucky"then I shifted in my stool and, a beer light shone down on meand she saw my jagged tatts of, a cross and John 3:16so I said I'd been in prison, that's where my new life begansometimes what's old or ragged, reaps good fortune for a mancos the cross was blurred n crooked, and my skin was kinda redthen she said "just keep it covered, Honey, if you wanna getlucky, and God knows you need itlucky, cos you look defeatedyeah, that worthless thingsure don't make you seem lucky"I wrote down her name and number, and stuck it in my pantstold her I hadda head home, without askin' her to dancewell, I took that t-shirt off, and kneeled by my bed aloneprayed and felt the bullethole from, that bank job in San Antonethen I met a gal the next week, whose words and life were realI just kept the first one's number, cos that damned thing made me feellucky, and sometimes I need itlucky, when I feel defeatedyeah, that worthless thingsomehow helped me seem lucky(c)2006 Robert George