Hap

Breaking a mirror gives you seven years
bad luck. I know, because of the car wing.
What I couldn’t foresee was the arrears
on the interest, as if shattering
glass in one dimension was not the end.
I’m up to thirteen, now. I got it fixed,
had some new-fangled contraption mounted.
As luck would have it, what should happen next,
but yet another accident (or chance),
as if some destined lines were due to meet.
This time, perhaps the other party’s
paying off the debt to Retribution Inc.
In which case, poor bastard. I hate to think
what happens when you break a tesseract.