Multiple Multiply Imperfect Days

Everyone alive’s a gambling addict;
Not every addict’s equally destructive.
It’s the very imperfection of your days
Keeps you gunning for better days.

Another sunny Monday in another dry
October in another burnt North American
Conundrum in another numbered year.
And yet, you see the light and roll the dice.

Or it’s not a Monday, not sunny, not
Autumn in North America at all. So?
Turns out none of the all-important details
Beloved of imagination matter. They don’t.

And still you roll the dice. As fiction said
In the perpetual rain of a replicant’s 2019,
Have a better one. The gods still live
In the details, and the Devil’s in them, too,

But there are no gods and there is no
Devil who isn’t some of us inside of you, so
What’s the use of details? What’s the use?
Sometimes it’s just beautiful; sometimes

It’s a thrill. There’s always more to see,
And, so long as you’re noticing something,
There’s always you. Roll. Something
Always changes. Change is not the ruse.