Three of Swords

Perhaps you have never known a gypsy.

There aren’t so many of them that they appear in every social group, and they are so willfully secluded, that it may be even rare to actually meet one.

San Francisco had a small contingent  who took cabs regularly.  Dressed in eclectic profundis, they would talk among themselves in their strange mixture of languages: a little German, a little French, Russian or Polish and English.  I drove them to the cemetery for family picnics among gravestones decorated with pinwheels, ribbons, flags, dolls, and plastic flowers. Much like a gypsy caravan.

As I drove away from her house, one of the young women, sitting in the back seat, fanned out her tarot deck behind my head, saying:   ”Pick one”.

The card I picked was the three of swords: a red heart pierced by three blades.

“Ahhh”, she said, “You’ll be married three times…and they will all end unhappily.

I laughed and told her that I had already been married once, and I never intended to do it again.

“Keep the card”, she said, “We’ll see”


~ by theoxherd on March 4, 2012.

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