The crowds moved around me
With purpose
Life led somewhere.
My own had settled
At the bottom of a teacup
In a pattern of uncertainty.
The sky held possibilities
My fist held fear.
The mist cleared
And the crystal ball showed
A transit period
When everything I touched
Turned to gold.
I crossed her palm with silver
And she read lines
On mine
That criss-crossed
Into the star
I would be
When I reached for the skies.
She did not read my eyes
She did not read my thoughts
And I did not tell her
Of old habits
That die hard.
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