It was in the old days in Atlantic City
& as the icy rain began to clear the boardwalk

Of even the most desolate stragglers

I pulled my ultra-cool thrift store fedora
Down low over my eyes & just kept on walking

& as I passed an old storefront painted up

Like a fortune teller's bazaar its ancient bricks
Covered in narrow stripes of orange and lavender

As if it were a gypsy's rippling tent

The old woman inside said softly to me the words
Come try & nothing else but after a few steps

I turned & went back & stepped out of the rain

To face her across the small round table
Where she sat shuffling a bent pack of Tarot cards

Sit down she said & of course I did just that