after another week at “the corporate orifice,”
clockwatching when not coffee-breaking,
feeling the padded walls of their cubicles closing in on them,
and just bitching about Mondays (or the boss) in general,
they met at what they called The Chapel of Job—
that poor bastard who’d been punished for his faithfulness
for a bet that God had struck with the devil.
And so, it came to pass
that when one of them played their lucky numbers,
hitting the jack of all pots,
the rest found themselves wishing
that person’s unlucky number was up.