The Fortune Teller

 
What a twat I was! I should have twigged her hidden motive while becoming entangled
in our free-verse drama!; but, she was determined to be the hero! Never trust the ego of a
writer, especially those nearest! I should never have started it with those opening lines!

 

 

 
‘We were young then,
when we read Modern Poetry,
and she, unlike foolish me,
was astutely aware of her own worth,
and use of lexicology.’
 
“Time,” she pleaded, “is a veritable force,
permitting only feigned hope of recovering
fast-receding glimpses of unique exaltations;
if we don’t sieze the hour,
it’s cruel pulling hook will defy release
of all passionate flirtation!”
 
“For time,” I attempted, “is an incessant thief,
faithful healer, irreproachable poacher,
indiscriminate to the needs of each.
Sometimes acting less than mercifully,
kidnapping and dragging the loved one
into the elusive shadows
of a far darker infinity
called Past.”
  
“Lurking in consciousness,” she continued,
“time clings fast to the cutting edge of nowness,
constantly moving with it, directly releasing it,
never stopping, turning, or reversing,
crucially, if we never ever listen,
it will steal away
any hopeful vision of
reconciliation!”
 
Then, at end of Spring term break,
I said facetiously in Michael Caine voice:
“Inserting a comma in our relationship
was not a full stop! Lol”
 
Bad move! For, using my personification, it prompted the polemist in her
to jot down:

‘How could I be so naive? It’s Autumn now, and too late,
she’s gone! But, if I could turn the clock back,
I would have taken her words more literally,
and in heeding her honesty, her predictive wisdom,
asked her, why the prophesy of our fate,
so easily foreseen in witty repartee,
(“while helping her at least, pass exams,” she rudely butts in!)
should leave only me,
still captive in our narrative,
needlessly forsaken?’
mistaken?’
 
After much deliberation, though very little on my part:
“No!” we agreed, “That’s crap!”
so we made love, tore it all up,
and went to bed.
 
Next morning, with fresh eyes,
she, having risen early, eager to continue, insisted we prune it down to:
 
 “I’m idly lamenting
about how we were so young
then, when we read Creative Writing
 
This afternoon, I took another bin bag
of shredded paper to Recycling
 
This evening she’s signing her
fourth collection of poems at Foyles
 
I cannot attend, it’s the Press Launch
and anyway, it’s quiz night
with onion soup”
 
 
 
 
 
 
(As a young student, I once shared acommodation with two English Literature students
who behaved like this all the time!)
 
Goth:May:2017
 
 

© gothicman 2017
Views: 791
critique and comments welcome.

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4 Comments on "The Fortune Teller"

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Gerry
Member

Goth. Wouldn’t dare to critique this – actually I am a bit frightened to comment 😉
I think I have said this before (If only we knew then what we know now.)
I bet you had some good fun though 😉
“it’s quiz night with onion soup” great finish…
gerry

Savvi
Member

Very clever Trevor, love the changes in style and found the whole piece feels fresh and entertaining. I too enjoyed the end line but particularly enjoyed reading it, in my Micheal Caine voice 🙂 In fact I like it so much, I’m typing this in my Micheal Caine voice. 🙂 Hope you are enjoying the Hols Keith

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