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.
the gap toothed fortune teller.
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