He held out the magic 8 ball to me.

Wanna try it? Don’t drop it or it’ll stop working.

This was his second.

Ask it something.

What do I ask it? I looked to my uncle inquisitively—
wondering if this was a trick.

He’d told me it’s a magical ball that talks.
I hadn’t heard anything yet, though.
Just him, fibbing through his teeth,
trying to sound convincing.

He took it back from me and asked it,
Will it rain today?

He showed me when the answer floated up: Most likely

I ran to the window to look outside
and it was summertime bright.

Yeah right! I said, scrambling back
to my uncle—still curious as ever,
but jaded from a multitude of brotherly tricks
already played out in my life.

Soon enough he had me shaking that magic globe,
spilling out questions faster
than I could accept its answers.

That was the first time I learned
prediction is addictive.

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