you will meet the love of your life outside a gas station bathroom,
and you’ll believe it. Sure, you might brush my words off at first,
but more and more, you’ll see a guy smiling at a girl stumbling
back to her car because she tripped over
his folded up, losing scratch card.
Out of nowhere, you’ll want scratch tickets,
leave loose change at home in hopes
some hunk offers you his nickel for good luck.
You’ll drive by gas stations and all of a sudden have to pee,
take more road trips, just guzzle gas to see the fuel gauge going down
(you’re going broke, but that’s okay)
any sap professing his love to you is just a sap,
some sad sack with no chance at capturing your attention—
you’ll reject one guy at a supermarket,
overlook another at the county fair,
fail to notice the man at the mall
until you meet me pumping gas because
being a stranger, all it takes is a phrase promoted to prophecy,
a phrase you just allowed to rule your destiny.