FORTUNE COOKIE

I didn’t care about the fortune cookie.
What I wanted was the message tucked inside.
Would it be my fortune? Would it be my luck?
Would it bring me a chuckle or a smile?
Or would it bring me an “Uh oh!”
Would I share it with the others?


I watched the other 5 all around the round table –
wondering when to make my move.
So much chatter – so much talk –
so many comments about the food.


My mind was so elsewhere.
What would be my message?


I slipped the fortune cookie to my lap –
to rip and remove the cellophane.
Then I crumbled the cookie in one hand.
With the other hand I took the tiny
paper message and cupped inside
a closed hand. Then I brought it up
and placed it on the edge of my plate,
making sure not to get soy sauce on it.


I was waiting, waiting, waiting
for the right moment to read my future –
to read my fortune. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.


In the meanwhile, I took and tasted
the broken and tasteless cookie.


Just then the waitress, without warning,
came over my left shoulder and walked away
with my plate – with my fortune – with my future.


The old lady right across from me – must
have been watching me the whole time – said,
“Here take my fortune cookie. See what it says.
Maybe you’ll have better luck with this one.”

I said, “Oh no – no thanks. You read your’s.”


Then the thought: “Is this my fortune –
is this my luck – is this my lot in life,
to have someone walk away with my future –
when I only have so little left on my plate
and then be handed someone else’s fortune?”

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2011