Fortune Cookies

The fortune in the first cookie said,
Depend on the predictability and
steadiness of life to support you.
Sounded good.

Except that the little cellophane wrapper
contained TWO fortune cookies–
an unexpected factoid
significantly undercutting such dependence.

The second fortune resolved the paradox:
Comfort zones are most often
expanded through discomfort.
I ate both cookies, and relaxed.



C. T. Holte: Born in Minnesota before color TV; grew up playing under bridges and in cornfields; went to lots of school; had gigs as teacher, editor, and less wordy things; recently migrated to New Mexico, and is loving fiery chiles, sunsets, and hanging poetry from trees to celebrate the Rio Grande bosque.

Categories: Poetry

Daily Drunk

Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.

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