The Itinerant Itinerary.
My fate foretold by a
crystal ball inside a tiny room
owned by a psychic in the
twisted maze work of the city,
she gazed on me with silence
sadly shaking her wrapped head.
I left her mimed damnation
amidst chilly wisps of white
The night was pristine, stars above
and clouds of fog below,
The clock upon the tower lied,
its hands both stuck at midnight,
All dreams eventually shatter
and it's then we must move on
A boxcar standing open
beckoned me to take the train,
the clickety-clack of its
steel wheels a rhythmic lullaby,
as I faded towards the distance
of last chances undiscovered.
A dandelion, a dreaded weed,
amidst a violet garden.
I scrabbled for my last smoke,
now flat broke its taste I savored,
as I stood beside the open hatch,
an orphan of forever,
a sudden lurch,
set me to falling,
where train wheels granted peace.
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