They entered the restaurant in silence.
Sat in front of me; cackled and wrinkled as they talked.
I sat back in a corner, trying not to eavesdrop.
Their conversation was fascinating though.
It kept dragging me right out of my juicy novel.
“Mount of Jupiter, mystic cross, broken life line,
lucky bracelets, outer Mount of Mars, and then I
discovered a star on her Mount of Venus!”
The other palm reader stared at her. “NO!
So hard to believe!”
I do not lie, she said.
I do not lie.
If I had a nickel for every time she said that
I would have $1.25 after this restaurant meal.
Which might indicate how boring this novel was.
No one willfully wants to assist the blight
Only we seem to be, yet clearly in the right
They are and must come screaming bloody
Hell, what don't they understand? Something
In the dark cries out, nothing comes from nothing
No way no how, but endlessly they attack us,
Grueling begrudging and badgering, they rack us
So high and pull apart at the seems, till we give
Every drop of blood in our dreams, so we live
Ever thriving near the end of the road, and beg for scraps
Master says are gold, gold damnation for angels,
Seraphs set to weave our fortune,
Telling us one thing and giving us another
Oh God if I had a nickel for every time brother
Got a nickel? I could use one it seems to call
Irresponsibility back and get my quarter
Vile venomous witch, she's called, loitering
Evermore in my heart and home, so long.
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