Lady luck she is, moving in mysterious ways. Elusive as a mermaid, she flits about effortlessly. Darting around corners of the eye, never to be envisioned in full bloom, never to be had. Lingering, enough to instigate fool's errands. A hapless quest for possession. Alluring, to lose threshold, a vain pursuit of void. Reaching out, I call out to her. Arms extended, hope renewed. She peers at me with intent. Inching close to be perceived within grasp. Perhaps, at long last, plight's acknowledged! A divine smile she adorns, a whisper I hear in my head "ignorant mortal, you cannot capture me, entrap me, lure me. I am the lady of luck; ethereal, mystical, sublime".
That's when I reach for my bazooka and shoot the biach down.