My wife wants to go to Lilly Dale to have her fortune read
I tell her save your money:
you married me
you live in Buffalo
your future’s bleak.
if the medium is the message at Lilly Dale
I don’t want my fortune read by the clairvoyant in the yellow cottage
who was beaten and robbed last week without knowing it was coming.
forget that bullshit about you get what you pay for
I’ve had my fortune told for free all my life with uncanny accuracy
my second grade teacher
was the first to predict trouble would follow me
the bartender at the Coral Inn for the price of a shot and beer
told me at sixteen my bad attitude would get me nowhere.
all types of women:
smart women
dumb women
young women
old women
black women
white women
and
all the women
I dated
or married
fucked
or wanted to fuck
who were stalkers
or avoided me
accurately predicted that I would never be happy.
my wife smiles as she leaves the cottage
of the ex-weatherman turned fortune teller
seemingly unaware that if he could not predict
the weather the next day
how was he going to have prophetic vision
of events as far away as a decade?
I would have been satisfied if he warned me
that I was going to get a speeding ticket
five minutes from Lilly Dale.