The House Of Dust: Part 02: 04: Nightmare

Draw three cards, and I will tell your future . . .     Draw three cards, and lay them down,     Rest your palms upon them, stare at the crystal,     And think of time . . . My father was a clown,     My mother was a gypsy out of Egypt;     And she was gotten with child in a strange way;     And I was born in a cold eclipse of the moon,     With the future in my eyes as clear as day.     I sit before the gold-embroidered curtain     And think her face is like a wrinkled desert.     The crystal burns in lamplight beneath my eyes.     A dragon slowly coils on the scaly curtain.     Upon a scarlet cloth a white skull lies.     Your hand is on the hand that holds three lilies.     You will live long, love many times.     I see a dark girl here who once betrayed you.     I see a shadow of secret crimes.     There was a man who came intent to kill you,     And hid behind a door and waited for you;     There was a woman who smiled at you and lied.     There was a golden girl who loved you, begged you,     Crawled after you, and died.     There is a ghost of murder in your blood,     Coming or past, I know not which.     And here is danger, a woman with sea-green eyes,     And white-skinned as a witch . . .     The words hiss into me, like raindrops falling     On sleepy fire . . . She smiles a meaning smile.     Suspicion eats my brain; I ask a question;     Something is creeping at me, something vile;     And suddenly on the wall behind her head     I see a monstrous shadow strike and spread,     The lamp puffs out, a great blow crashes down.     I plunge through the curtain, run through dark to the street,     And hear swift steps retreat . . .     The shades are drawn, the door is locked behind me.     Behind the door I hear a hammer sounding.     I walk in a cloud of wonder; I am glad.     I mingle among the crowds; my heart is pounding;     You do not guess the adventure I have had! . . .     Yet you, too, all have had your dark adventures,     Your sudden adventures, or strange, or sweet . . .     My peril goes out from me, is blown among you.     We loiter, dreaming together, along the street.