shimmer ; tronnor poem au

d

he told me
miracles are absent minded
stories.

that
people who care too
little
and think too
much
try to put their good fortunes
into words.

that they never
stop to think
that when
they set out
to see the beauty
in things,
they'll find it
in almost everything.

that when
rumors
tickle the back
of their throats
after they
croak out
apologizes
to people who
theyve heard
twisted things about

theyre going to find doubt
in the person's demeanor and
"your welcome".

he says
when no one knows
why their
day
went so well
they look past their
choices
that set them
up
to do well

and the only
tangible thing
that can make
their life
sound
interesting
and spare their mind
some reasonable thinking
is tinkering a tale
and call it
a miracle.

so therefor
he says
the luck
we think we got
is purely
a lie
and a poorly written plot
built from
lack of
thought.

he didnt consider
that he blew his own cover.

that in telling me
people see what they
expect to see

and that miracles
are just random;
and far from "lucky",

hes also explaining
that people are dumb;
that they assume something "lucky"
is why good has been done.

and when they expect
to see something great,
they'll find it; for real,
no give or take.

so his
charade
of pretending he's fine
is taken as
true
to any blind eye

but theres something not
right.
he's shimmering
in something
that sends
shivers down my spine.

that chink in his mind
is what i intend to find 

i called it good luck
that we meet
and interact

but if luck is a fake,
then so is his
act.

because he wants me to think
that hes warm and hes
kind

but ive set out to see him
for whats really
inside.