some mysterious angle

An entity of uncertain nature
and origin told me "good luck,"
but without real feeling. 

At least none that I could
detect or tell. I asked it, "What?
Do you mean that you give it, or
just that I'll need it soon, or is
it some blind and smarmy,  
more or less meaningless

benediction, sunshine?"

That "sunshine"
was sarcastic.
As most sunshines are,
in language use.

For the entity,
whatever, however
it was, seemed
entirely dark
to me. In fact,
had it not just
spoken aloud,

I'd have been in grave
danger of mistaking it
for my own shadow. 

It was huge.

I put it down to a trick
of the light, some mysterious
angle in play, and reminded myself 

to exercise. Eat right.

In this life, we make up
luck ourselves, by the bushel bale
or we go without. We can't live
in reliance
on some cryptic
entity anymore. It's 

unlucky.