I had my fortune read
by a woman with
enormous #$!^
and a face full of craters
today;
she lit a cigarette
and asked me for my name,
twice,
before telling me
that I was creative and torn
and willing to be hurt,
as if it were
some sort of thirty dollar revelation.

Her eyes terrified me
with an overwhelming guilt
if I did not stare back;
yellowed and pale,
she was full of my future

and I only wanted to cram it back
into her rotten mouth
as she slammed the table, jolting me,
and demanded her compensation for
my newly founded fears.

March 24, 2008

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