The Psychic Speaks to a Client


by Al Kaplan

Wait! Your son is out on bail–How did I know? Never mind,

just worry not. Your Sonny will outgrow delinquency like his baby shoes.

He’ll wed a clever girl. Of course, you’re glad. Hush!

I see the newlyweds putting a down payment on a few acres.

They plant. Their rows of baby pines will grow up tall and travel

far: showing off, as the bells peal, perfect ornamental balls.

Hush! I see a shipwreck from a past life casting its long shadow

across your crib as your little fingers grip the bars

to keep yourself upright. You’re screaming. I’m not sure why.

Wait! I see a blue sail beyond the bitter salvos of mumsie and dad–

Interesting. Sailboats, you say, were the wallpaper pattern of your nursery.

My gift fascinates you? I tell you it’s not always a gift to sail time’s

waters. I’m often marooned weeping in a cemetery at dusk. As shovels

painfully scrape, dirt and falling stones knock on my daughter’s little coffin.

–Oops, my new black top hat flies off–But a tombstone stops it,

while the gust skips off the bleak stage, as if in her ballet slippers.

* *

You’ve returned for another session. Welcome. You’re curious?

My first vision? It was at a summer camp, I was a small-for-my-age 13:

“The Shrimp” as I was known. One day behind the tennis courts, I gorged

on handfuls of berries that had just been sprayed. My stomach convulsing,

glaring hopelessly into the berry bramble, I saw my fix-anything Uncle Balcom,

bare-chested on our garage roof, reeling in the heat of the sun’s glowering eye.

Taking a swig from his thermos full of vodka tonic, he fell.

Sure enough, a month later, cozily cushioned between the warm

thighs of Aunt Dell and his new girlfriend Kim, I discovered

spots of purplish, sour-looking human pain along those arms and legs

tangled and shaking on the asphalt drive.