Random Foursome

Just a little while ago, that bald African-American who's sitting at the window booth, that young, unshaven fellow with the earring and the cap, that silver-haired Caucasian daydreaming in his polo shirt and I, were congregated, quite by chance around the coke machine. 'How 'bout a game of golf? ' I could have said, though of course, they would have thought me mad. What are the odds the four of us will ever meet up anywhere again? Life keeps mixing us around much more than we realize — atoms in perpetual flux, marbles in a divine game.