by The Notorious H.A.M.

Created on: March 12, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

The Vault

An ear pressed soundly
to the door,
his fingers twisted, listening
for the click.
The click.
That lovely click which
pitches forth the gain
inside.
He dialed,
and smiled,
secure in the notion that
patience was key.
But the hours passed,
and then the days.
He became a gambler,
coin after coin fed
furiously
into an unrelenting reservoir.
He was a window
shopper, nose longingly to the pane
of a darkened store -
held there by the length
of some poor half-wit's lunch hour.
This sentience sobered
him - desist
in twisting, and someone else
will purchase his trinket, will
take home his tokens,
will hear that lovely
click.
It is merely his presence
which keeps
shopkeepers away, keeps
jackpots at bay,
keeps his bounty forever unrequited and
safe.

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