Sunday, June 8, 2014

Fortune teller

An ice slice,
he had said the fortune teller
that's your intention: it is a lack of movement ice is 
A state of in between that serves no purpose
Amid the sugar cones and the beers
From two sides paved in grit
she asked if that was to determine 
A future
It looks static, you see
a state of breaking even 
but then again, your soul received ice
it is hard, but it melts. He smiled 
beneath a witches' hat,
the gap toothed fortune teller.

No comments:

Post a Comment