Fortune Telling

Headlights flicker
in all four corners of the window;
it's my last night in New York.
I woke from a storm that formed
out on Moriches Bay and headed
straight for Queens, thunder
stomped through the room
like a two year old throwing a fit.
"get up, get up, and get up!"
I was dreaming of the husband
I'm supposed to meet next year.
The fortune teller
said I'd move to California,
get married and have two kids.
Stayed up the rest of the night
watching serpentine lightning
strike at the ankles of stars
sparkling by a hair's breadth
until I found out
she told my buddy Frankie
the same ten-dollar tale.
He didn't believe, and stayed
behind, deaf as dandelions.