Scratch Away

-Scratch Away-
by
Keaton Foster



The other day
I was walking down the street
Dragging my knuckles
Bruising my left and right orbitals
Looking at the ground
Further whispering sacred sounds
Speaking in rhymes to of course myself
Preparing for another day
Of both pen and page
Finding inspiration within
The confinements of such desperation
And absolute isolation
As I walked along
I spotted something quite strange
Luck many would dare say
But of course not me
As I always do I would just call it
Happenstance for the screwed
Laying there at my feet
Was a scratch off lottery ticket
Freshly printed, seemingly unmolested
Not a single stain or a bur out of place
It was quite simply perfection
It was as it was purchased
And then dropped to serve a purpose
Other than the one it was meant for
There was no convenience store around
No old men, downtrodden and neglected
No orally fixated rurally refined ladies
Spending their dead husband’s pension
There was simply nothing but the ground
The clouds and the world all around
At first I refused to pick it up
At first I wanted to have nothing to do
With such implied chance
I just stood there and wondered
Not of what could be for me
But rather what could be for someone else
I waited, I wondered, and I hoped
That another more deserving than me
Would come walking by and find it
In the same pristine condition as me
But as seconds turned into minutes
No one, not a soul, not a being
Could be seen within a hundred yards of me
It is often said that curiosity killed the cat
I like to add my own twist and dare say
That curiosity murdered the human being
I knelt down and picked it up
Careful not to damage it in anyway
I walked on my way
Further enslaving inspiration in every way
Only when my mind was full
And I had all that I needed to fill the page
Did I do an about face and head back home
Back the same way that I had come
When I reached the spot where I found the ticket
I stopped and paused for a brief second
Again I looked around in every possible direction
Trying my damnedest to spot another being
One that was preferable looking for a lost
Unscratched lottery ticket that could be worth
Something greater than anything I am comfortable with
I could see no one, not a person, not a soul
After a few minutes I continued on home
As I reached the corner out front
I knelt down and placed the lottery ticket
On the ground in a spot that I could observe
From the window in my writers den
I figured that someone else needed the luck
Way more than a man like me
For many days and many nights
That ticket laid there unmolested
Unscratched and possible uncashed
Then finally one darker day
A passerby, a child, a boy
Stopped and spotted the ticket
Hesitating as what to do
That passerby, that child, that boy
Stood there for what seemed most of his youth
Then one day he knelt down and picked it up
He studied each and every detail
Never once removing a coin to scratch
Never once facing down the odds
Instead, that passerby, that boy, that child
Took that ticket and ripped it in half
He carefully placed one half in his pocket
The other half he placed back on the ground
He then turned and easily walked away
Never again would I see his face
Many minutes turned into many days
Only when the threat of rain came
Did I make my way outside to the half ticket
I knelt down and picked it up
Like a madman I scratched away
Fearless with regard to my fate
My half of the ticket said you’re a winner
I can only wonder what the other half said…


Scratch Away
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2013