Saturday, September 8, 2012

#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.

2 comments:

  1. Globe


    I know the future
    we all do
    tomorrow starts at 12 and goes down from there

    Go back ten minutes days years
    go back where you came from
    go back when you felt goosebumps
    at the shaking earth
    at the lights going dim
    at the stars coming out
    go back when you could tell the truth
    without screaming
    that time
    never existed

    I'm a block of uncarved rock
    in the beginning
    and my ma and pa took turns cutting me
    then my sisters chimed in with lullabies
    about rocking and falling from trees
    until the teachers took over
    and scribed me with letters
    they raised entire books on my skin
    until you could no longer make out an individual
    word

    The future isn't a place
    you want to be
    if you don't want to be right
    now

    or maybe it will be
    better then, maybe what we know
    isn't really what we know
    maybe I'll look into that Christmas globe
    shake it all up, snow all around
    presents piled high about the tree
    maybe keeping all the rituals intact
    lets us know tomorrow
    so long as we keep shaking it up

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  2. her eyes are made of glass
    like the globe she holds through which
    she sees the rest of my life unfolding
    her lips barely moving, a chant
    rising from her chest
    her glittering dress shimmering
    as she breathes and fades
    a fog forms and she disappears along with
    the rest of who i am, who i am to be
    i reach out with my arms
    meaning to grab her or crystal globe
    but all i touch is air and uncertainty
    now i can't breathe now i can't think
    can't keep my food down or head up
    she was my last hope, her pale hands
    and silver nails, the gold flecks floating
    in the air as i asked her for help
    she is quick to leave
    and i am quick to feel alone

    ReplyDelete