I Miss the Fuzzy Dice

by Jackie Cruz-Wagener

The car pulls up
and I’d see them, hanging there
fuzzy,
tacky,
an announcement
from the driver: I take chances
and I want the whole world to know.
I’d cringe, knowing I could never
be friends with them—those people,
and their cheap, messy lives.
Now
something else hangs there,
something ominous,
something divisive,
and I yearn for the dice,
and the people who once hung them there.