#22

The Fortune Teller

the fortune teller told me i had one big project that would never come to fruition until i gave up hope. of course every time i suspected it would come to fruition i realized it would not (if the fortune teller was correct.) i was too hopeful! she was a dark-browed woman in a smoke-filled room. it said "psychic" in pink neon out in front.
i'm still waiting.

the fortune teller said that o. and i were married in another life, medieval times. said psychic was blond and beautiful and charged me lots of money. i wrote a poem, i thought i could remember everything--the linen sheets, the hearth, the cottage in the woods. i took these things to mean that we were destined, o and i, that we loved each other now. until his estranged wife came to visit and they spent two weeks at the beach. getting henna tattoos, staying in his one-bedroom apartment and not speaking to anyone else, not even her new boyfriend. especially not me.

on our first date, at the crystal store, the fortune teller told me and b that we were sisters in another life. the fortune teller was a tall young man who lapsed into old southern woman voice when he told his tales. my heart stirred, imagining the possibilities (though b was freaked) and b and i had dinner, did a little dance, he bought me bangles bright with flowers. but we saw each other only once again. if you don't count the time i checked his facebook page and found he was engaged. (i was not his maid of honor!)

the fortune teller is a lovely mom with tarot cards. she told me that my soul mate? he'd come soon. that he'd be young and fair with an interest in music and the spirit. that even though you're dark skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with a dark-beard growing on your face, those times you stayed up all night long to work, you might be him. you might be

him.

Comments

  • Krista Saturday, 08 September 2012

    her eyes are made of glass like the globe she hold...

    her eyes are made of glasslike the globe she holds through which she sees the rest of my life unfoldingher lips barely moving, a chant rising from her chesther glittering dress shimmeringas she breathes and fadesa fog forms and she disappears along withthe rest of who i am, who i am to bei reach out with my armsmeaning to grab her or crystal globebut all i touch is air and uncertaintynow i can't breathe now i can't thinkcan't keep my food down or head upshe was my last hope, her pale handsand silver nails, the gold flecks floatingin the air as i asked her for helpshe is quick to leaveand i am quick to feel alone

  • Exitonpch Saturday, 08 September 2012

    Globe I know the future we all do tomorrow start...

    GlobeI know the futurewe all dotomorrow starts at 12 and goes down from thereGo back ten minutes days yearsgo back where you came fromgo back when you felt goosebumpsat the shaking earthat the lights going dimat the stars coming outgo back when you could tell the truthwithout screamingthat timenever existedI'm a block of uncarved rockin the beginningand my ma and pa took turns cutting methen my sisters chimed in with lullabiesabout rocking and falling from treesuntil the teachers took overand scribed me with lettersthey raised entire books on my skinuntil you could no longer make out an individualwordThe future isn't a placeyou want to beif you don't want to be rightnowor maybe it will bebetter then, maybe what we knowisn't really what we knowmaybe I'll look into that Christmas globeshake it all up, snow all aroundpresents piled high about the treemaybe keeping all the rituals intactlets us know tomorrowso long as we keep shaking it up

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