Flight of Fortune
Aisle seat in the third row–
a next door neighbor I do not know.
I put my seat belt on and then
look up to her all-knowing grin.
“May I tell your fortune?” is her request,
though it is not made at my behest.
A pastime really not my choosing,
still, with nothing more amusing
to pass the time, I give consent
and this is how our time is spent
in those first minutes of our flight,
until the ground is out of sight.
My fortune told, I sit and think,
ordering another drink,
pleased by some of her predictions
but finding others contradictions
to how I’ve planned my life to be.
I worry my fingers upon my knee.
Does she concoct or does she see
the lines that she relates to me?
Some things she mentions have happened, still,
I hope that others never will.
Yet I fear if I reject
the things she says, I might deflect
the good things so they’ll never be.
This is the choice that faces me.
Can the good that she foretold––
of feats accomplished and love and gold––
be accepted without the rest?
I want the warmly-feathered nest,
the stranger tall and dark and rich,
but I do not want all of her pitch.
The illness, sadness, loss of friends?
I don’t like how my fortune ends.
I press a coin into her hand,
take off my seat belt and quickly stand.
Perhaps if I just change my seat
and find a seatmate more discreet,
I’ll change my life as easily–
and react less queasily
to conversation that is not rife
with details of my future life!
Life Line:You’re on a long flight, and a palm reader sitting next to you insists she reads your palm. You hesitate, but agree. What does she tell you? https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/life-line/