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            Lavender Disaster

            By David
St. John

            
               (posted Wednesday, Nov.
12)
            

            To hear the poet read
"Lavender Disaster," click .

            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 fedoraDown low over my eyes & just kept on walking

            & as I passed an old
storefront painted up

            Like a fortune teller's
bazaar its ancient bricksCovered 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 tableWhere she sat shuffling a bent pack of Tarot cards

            
               Sit down she said
& of course I did just that

            & as she laid the
cards out slowly before herShe quietly rocked a little in her chair

            Then she told me the story
of the future I might hold

            & as she spoke the
room filled with a lightAs thick as the mist outside & softly lavender

            As softly lavender as an
electric summer sunset

            Down at the beach with
maybe Stella or even Renata& the gypsy's eyes closed & my own eyes
too

            As she said You will
sit in the throne of Heaven
            

            
               & die into the open
arms of your Lord Well that's really nice I thought

            All this death shit &
not a word about sex or money

            But I couldn't open my
eyelids for a second& when I did the mist had cleared although a faint

            Scent remained of my
grandmother's lavender sachet

            & the gypsy's hand was
out so I slapped down a fiveThen got out before she told me something else

            I didn't want to know but
I was worse than chilly now

            A little bent out of shape
& leery of the wayThe night was coming down so black along the streets

            I just knew I couldn't go
on to work that night

            So I turned back &
started heading home thinkingHow Stella would be pissed I'd spent that five
spot

            On the gypsy not to
mention I'd be back

            Early with no money from
the shift I couldn't doBut maybe we'd go out to the movies

            We hadn't done that since
I'd been made a night clerk

            That would make her happy
I thought the movies& then a drink at Jake's to make up for the fact

            We'd be broke again next
week for sure

            & as I opened the door
to our apartmentI swear I could smell the scent of lavender

            & that same mist began
rolling through the living room

            & I could hear them
then in the back bedroomMaking those little fucking sounds so fucking
softly

            So fucking tenderly it
made me want to scream

            But I just walked through
the kitchen & grabbedThe ice pick off the counter where Stella'd

            Left it after chipping ice
flakes for their drinks

            & as I came to the
open bedroom doorI stood there for a second but

            They didn't notice me her
legs fiercely bicycling

            The air & he was
jack-hammering away at herSo I just stepped up beside the bed &
punctuated

            This happy dream with a
few decisive holes

            To let the lavender air
out of the moment& I'm not kidding as I watched the two of them

            Stretched out silently
across the damp mattress

            I could actually see the
mist clearing again& again I could finally breathe a little

            So none of the rest of
this really matters

            & you reading this
matter least of allBecause I am the one man who knows my simple

            Future & all of the
rest of you must live in the pain

            Of not knowing of not
believing what comesWill be finally not so different from my own

            Wild glory as I come to
sit at last upon

            My own Lordly throne so
carefully hewnOf precious woods & polished by the sweat of men

            Who before me have
mistakenly believed only

            They were worthy of this
journey I welcomeAs I am fitted with those perfect leather straps

            A helmet wired to the
future & charged by the grace

            Of God & the Governor
to carry me into that HeavenI was promised one distant lavender

            Night