Five in Hartford

I wrapped myself inside my winter coat,
and found a five inside the warmth of my pocket.
That day the cold was more than I could stand,
so, with my newfound wealth, I whipped around
the street to Madame Soldi's Fortune House.
I always put a five in my jacket
to find when I thought I hated Hartford.
And I would have my fortune told to me
in the aromas of sandalwood and
teriyaki from Mandarin Meals next door.
Madame Soldi read the leaves in my tea.
She said last winter that I'd change careers;
I still pass her on my way home at five.

I took my jacket off, and hung it up,
waited for my tea to steep; steam rose like
blind fingers searching my face for answers,
whispering them in Madame Soldi's ear.
I sipped my tea slowly when it was done,
because I was in no hurry for words.
A cup of good tea was just so hard to find.