by Ellen Pepper
Understandably anxious,
the gaudy, aged fortune teller with a tatty blonde wig
and garish red lipstick
gathers up her bag of magics and mysteries,
and boards the south-bound train.
In her mind, she's going to Byron to meet a man with mad skills.
In truth, her appointment is with Fate.
At Queen Street Station,
a burly man with bruised knuckles and grimy overalls
undertakes a devious ploy to rob a wizened woman
of a seat.
With her keen eyes, our Lady of the Night sees this
and reaches into her bag of talismans,
pulls from it a bent twig
and,with strong intent,
waves it in his general direction.
The man, jostled by the crowd,
falls to his knees with a deadly grimace
and dies.
Shocked onlookers at first gather around the corpse,
then part as the train enters the station.
Many dash off to catch their connections.
Our Lady stays in place,
mumbling about the strangeness of Time.
At Union Station, she disembarks,
crosses the platform,
and boards the train that would return her to her home -
a tent under the Gardiner Expressway.
Her name is Violet.
She once owned a bridal wear shop in Yorkville.
Copyright © Ellen Pepper 2022
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