"At the Tarot Reading", a poem by John Grey

You will be threatened.
You will rush outside.
You will run into Alice Cooper.
For a time, you will live in an abandoned tunnel.
Or a rusted car.
Or an iron shed.
You will sacrifice yourself to ruthless women.
And prick your finger on a safety pin.
Play charades with cockroaches.
Drop to your knees to be suitably punished.
Make a rubbing sound when you walk.
Rumble like thunder when sleeping.
And you’ll be trapped in a fire.
Be stuck at a red light for a year.
Make friends but only with pigeons.
Lie down in a bare field which, over time,
will become the site of a strip mall.
You’ll smell worse than dead fish.
And your church pew will be named in honor
of your worst enemy.
You will never learn to spell schematic.
Nor will you ever know better,
You’ll go feral and kick cans for a living.
Your fever dreams will end up as fever awakening.
You will never be satisfied by the taste of raw onion.
Or be able to make things clear.
But you’ll cut yourself on shards of glass often.
Have a nice day
though the cards beg to differ.