Lines for the Fortune Cookies: The Remix*
You will settle down with a woman who can do no better than you.
You are reprehensible, and everyone barely tolerates you. (I kid. You’re OK.)
There’s someone out there for you, and he’s already in prison.
You will live long and prosper, just before becoming a bankrupt invalid.
You will never experience it, but you will panic about terrorism on every flight.
Your daughter will be the kind, respectful mentor that the other strippers admire.
You will prejudge the nearby stranger and feel bad about it; he will then mug you.
Your lucky numbers aren’t divisible by one; good luck with that whole lottery thing.
You will have world-changing ideas that will dissipate with the marijuana smoke.
The bill-collector you keep screening is actually the blessing you’re blocking.
Relax; the coworker that you claim is flirting with you is just being nice.
You believe you are your own worst critic; you will soon be proven wrong.
You strut with confidence, which other than your delusions, is your best asset.
You probably won’t eat cake today.
From your couch, you will mock athletes on TV doing things you never could.
Black may be slimming, but pastels are less depressing. Diversify your wardrobe.
Be mindful of oversharing. Don’t give your frenemy a set of daggers.
You will uncover dark relics of the past, especially if you floss more.
Relax; the coworker that you claim is flirting with you is flirting with everyone.
The next person to speak to you has an exceptionally boring story to tell.
A lot of people in this room mock you behind your back.
You will never reach your horizon. It is not a fixed position.
Relax; the coworker that was flirting with you is not pregnant.
(*Today’s NaPoWriMo writing prompt is to re-write Frank O’Hara’s Lines for the Fortune Cookies. You can find the original poem here.)