everything happens for no reason at all

whenever I go to
this one thrift store,
it's always raining
when I walk out.

bought a Patsy Cline
record there once;
bought a copy of
The Notebook there
recently, the book,
not the movie.

found the shirt I'm wearing
right now while writing this
there, and it was sunny
when I entered,
but it was storming
when I took the exit.

cursing karma
for not existing,
because it owes me,
and paying in quarters,
waiting for history
to count my change.

today, I found
and bought a book
I almost bought
in a thrift store
in Orlando a long time ago,
yet it somehow found me here.

our decisions
revisit us,
just like ex-lovers
in dreams called later.