Why are you always opening your mouth so wide?

I met a woman on the street today. She poked a thin, double-ringed finger out from the alley I passed and said: I can see your future. I told her I had no interest in knowing the unknown, but she spread all six of her fingers of her left hand in front of my face: STOP. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her throat opened up. She said: Your face smells like my middle name. Perpetually scrunched between two more important names. Sometimes mentioned, but mostly just abbreviated.

And I swear it was your name she abbreviated. I took a deep breath to inhale her sweetness, hoping some of the future might work its way into my blood. That day, she placed you in my blood and you are running through my body. I feel you in my veins and when you circle back up from my feet, through my hips, around my gut and to my heart. These days, I go strictly by my middle name.

I’m more complete that way.