How can so much beauty
elicit such deep sadness
I speak here of music
Why are the memories
brought back instantaneously
when the notes begin
and which I once cherished
now playing as empty
and worse
that world is gone
but perhaps it was
wasted on me
when will I know
what the hell I'm doing
I keep asking
probably never
someone find that girl
who gave me readings
with the tarot
in the wee hours
in the dorm at university
that itself yet another
melancholy recollection
though the sound of her laughter
still brings a smile
the wheel of fortune
the chariot
the three of cups
death
so many possibilities
in the palm of your hand
fate resting
on the flick of your wrist
if I could ask her
which card
best describes me
without hesitation
she would smile
and say, "the fool."
And I would nod
in agreement.
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