Misfortunate Palm

On a plane bound for Atlantis,

Or a place just as real,

My palm was read by a young man.


My palm looked like it was normal,

But he gave it a feel,

As I offered him my open left hand.


He stared for a while,

Poking and prodding,

Until he burst out with dread.


“This hand is not a man of the living,”

He said while nodding.

“This hand is a man’s from the dead.


I explained to him thoroughly

That I was still here, and

I hadn’t kicked the bucket.


He stared at me, a look

that installed fear, and

said “Then don’t act like it.”


6 thoughts on “Misfortunate Palm

  1. So I took his advice with solemnity,
    Determined to live with serenity,
    and went home to my garden so friendily,
    to listen at last to eternity:
    Warte nur, bald ruhest du auch.

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