poetry

fortune telling

I thought about fortune telling
today, I thought about fortune
tellers.

last summer I went to a fortune teller
She was young
she had tattoos
chest tattoos
neck tattoos
maybe a lily
maybe a crucifix

she wore red lipstick
she was big
she had big boobs
bulging out of her
velvet dress

she looked at me
happy face
sad eyes
I told her I wasn’t a believer
I did the thing
she did the thing
the thing was done

those words she spoke
smooth like butter
out of those over-
stuffed red lips
they hang like nooses
around so many necks
one at a time
crack, crack, crack

now I dream about her
I think back to that day
I remember the smell of the incense
the too thick
too stained
too burgundy carpet
and
how it felt under my shoes

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