We Are Bad Randomizers and Tend to Copy Each Other Automatically

If I do the same thing
The same thing happens.
If I take the same risk
Something different will
Eventually happen. We
Don't know what to say

To each other, other
Than to throw lots,
Our lot. Random is the unapproachable
God of a universe that wears us down.
We came up with a trick,
Each other. But the trick

Proved better than the sum
Of the lives playing it as if
Life could depend on it.
We mock ourselves. We laugh
At each other as each other
Fails while the copying, thriving, continues.

Nothing further was said
About the incident,
The memory of which
Faded out with the chimes
Of the bells that were rung
At his last burial.