Her eyes do not see my face, my grey beard, my grey hair or my imperfect eyesight. No, but she can see my very soul. She can speak to me without moving her porcelain lips. I feel that she can see my past and my future. Will she tell me why my heart breaks for something I did 49 years ago? Something was said to hurt someone’s precious feelings. I did not say the words but I heard them…and I did nothing. That makes me guilty. Can she tell me why I miss certain people I have known? People who are no longer near me…brothers and parents who have parted. Lovers and friends who have turned away from me…leaving me on street corners in the rain…in phone booths with a handful of quarters…empty beds…expensive hotels…cheap motels. Will she tell me about the rest of my life? Will I always be lonely? Will I always regret the things I did not do, instead of the things I did? How long is a lifespan? Will I pass with grace and dignity, or just staring mutely at the wall, with a chemical dripping into my forearm?
She doesn’t even see into my eyes. She is desirable without desire. Cold, aloof and passionless.
She can tell me everything but she says nothing.
She’s the Fortune Teller on the Wall.