Fruit Machine

Waxwork sky,
Sculpted by repeating dreams,
Threatens to decay today.

Suddenly and unexpectedly,
I find myself wearily afraid,
And foolishly trying to make a way,
Through the rest of the day.

Do velvet curtains mysteriously find themselves unable to draw?

Does the sudden death of a lollipop man find him curiously knocking at heavens door?

What for?

You tell me,
I don't have the answer.
The world is a world of fruit machine,

I am Orange,
You are Pear,
And the odds stacked against us; unfair.

But I am going to keep on pushing that GO button.