The impossible came for a visit the other day.
It was only for an hour. I knew it couldn’t stay.
I flipped the coin a bunch of times: seventeen tails
and gold flowed from the tap streaming into pails.

The weirdest shit was happening but only for the hour.
It’s like the day had been charged with wicked weird power
that allowed the strangest things to happen just by chance,
generating such unlikely circumstance!

The brevity of magic made powerful and deep
and got me wishing strangeness could’ve lasted, would just keep
on going for another day or, best, another year.
But if the odds stayed wrong that would ruin all the seers.

How robust could predictions be if no one could foretell?
That the impossible occurred for but an hour’s just as well.
If it lasted longer, though exciting it might be,
the world would be in rough shape, I can tell you that for free.