Tonight's The Night

where I, Fist, will find between my fingers and thumb, this: a remote control. News from today will trickle in, until the early hours and the declaration of a win. The fifth day of the fifth month, two thousand and five. Day of power, day of fate for our future lives, spent for fist meandering amongst such numerous marvels as this.

Or perhaps I will reach higher and higher, to 934, where flickering Italian porn stars undress, a caller panting in their ear-piece, the screen scrolling with numbers to phone, as she touches her hard lumpen breasts with a moan, and where the winners and losers aren't announced, although the reflection on the glass hazards a guess.