They came into my tent,
a young boy and girl,
holding hands and giggling;
she thrust forth a sweaty palm
“Tell my fortune, fortune teller!”
I calmly looked them both up an down
and true to my profession, said
“First you must cross my palm with silver”
So the boy dug into his jeans pocket
and produced four quarters’
“two dollar” I said, and the girl found
four more quarters In her handbag
a little purse with a long strap slung over her shoulder,
She sat down opposite me at my table and again
Held out her hand;
a cold chill went through me as
I gazed at her palm
and I looked up at the boy who grinned uneasily
As if he knew…that I knew…what he was thinking.
“I see–” I began and knew I could not tell her the truth
“You and this young man will get married” I began again
“And there will be babies…” I could not go on.
“Take your money back” I said thrusting the eight quarters
into her hand. “I cannot tell you more”
I heard the boy exclaim as they left,
“I told you…they’re all fake”
I shuddered as they disappeared into the crowd.
I could not tell the girl what this young man
would someday do to her…and her babies.
I closed up my tent for the day and made a
pot of herbal tea to dispel any negative spirits.
Sandra Lee Smith
Originally posted May 26, 2009
Updated July 29, 2018