Flying Elbows

Bad luck came his way.

Flying Elbows went out one day
and bought himself a pickup truck.
When he broke the mirror inside,
he muttered, “Seven years bad luck.”

Then Flying Elbows went inside
his modest house upon his farm.
He promptly broke another mirror,
and this set off his break alarm.

“Bad luck will now be mine for sure,
for I am up to fourteen years!”
He shunned reflection totally
so not to witness any tears.

His bad luck was immediate
and followed him throughout the night.
He broke two more mirrors at a friend’s,
for care was his true oversight.

As Flying sat with hang-dog face,
he contemplated his long wait.
“Now twenty eight years of bad luck;
four broken mirrors--O what a fate!”

And sure enough his luck was bad
as months went by with lots of woe.
It rained on Elbows all alone,
and often he would stub his toe.

“I’m in jail,” Flying Elbows said,
“a prisoner of broken glass.”
“O luck why must you be my bane,
why doest thou impose this impasse?”

After one year he sighed a sigh--
he knew his serving was mounting;
he raised his arms and said out loud:
“Twenty-seven years and counting.”

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