My Journal

   Wednesday, June 1, 2005
It's time to seek out a reading.  In summer I sat in a store before it opened with a woman who read my cards.  She seemed truly connected.  Not the million imposters draped in netted black with a charge card machine within reach.  If I can't find myself, I thought, perhaps these cards will point me there. 

All I wanted was to see you: walking down the street, in line at the P.O., drinking coffee at Java Joe's.  Was it so long ago we spoke of the world's end in your attic apartment in Sea Cliff-- scaring one another with promises?

It was so long ago.  Before you had a house below the Green Mountains, before I was banished to wander.  No trail of crumbs will lead me to your door.  No charm will open it.  Only a heart in the place where you now carry stone.
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