This poem was inspired by a real incident in my life as a Masters level Social Work student/intern working in what used to be a county position in San Francisco. The ending of the real situation had not been like the one in the poem. Jordan, wherever you are, please, claim your raincheck for that free tarot reading. I hope that you never make it to Oregon. ***Bles

       THE ACCIDENTAL MEETING WITH A KEVORKIAN FAN

One day, as I was walking down Market Street in San Francisco, smoking, A young and handsome African American man stopped me and asked me if he could buy a cigarette from me, his handful of coins ready. I said, “No need to buy it, man,” and offered him my pack and my lighter. He gratefully lit up and asked if I knew Dr. Jack Kevorkian. I said yes I’ve heard of the guy and I asked him why.

He said he wanted to dieand wanted to know which state in the United States it is legal to have physician-assisted suicide. Oregon, I answered, but that’s beside the point. “But why, man?” I asked of this guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties. (I myself am already 37, bloody and broken but unbowed.) “I’ve got AIDS and I don’t want to live anymore,” he replied.

“Oh man, surely you have friends or loved ones who would hate to see you go,” I implored. He shook his head. “No, they’ve all betrayed me. I hate mankind. There’s no compelling reason for me to stay here on this earth anymore.”

“Hey, what’s your name?” I tried to distract him by introducing myself and giving him my card which does say that I am a tarot reader and astrologer.

“Jordan,” he replied as he scrutinized my calling card with miniature planets on it.

“Jordan,” I said, “let’s go that café right now and I’ll give you a reading free of charge.”

“Oh no, miz. I don’t want you to give me no reading that’s just a feel-good reading gonna make me change my mind about what I wanna do. I know what you’re up to!”

Drats, I was foiled, but I was undeterred. I quickly pulled my tarot deck from my purse and picked a card at random, standing out there in the street with Jordan, and showed it to him. It was the Three of Swords. The Three of Swords depicts a red heart pierced through by three different swords .

“Here,” I showed the card to him, “the Three of Swords, a broken heart. This is your future. Surely this broken heart is better than nothing, right? Surely this broken heart won’t be happening in a vacuum, right? Your heart will be broken, yes, but it will be broken by someone else, at least, someone who will be significant in your life in the near future.” Shaking his head, Jordan said, “I told you, I’ve lost all connection to anybody.”

“You will connect with somebody soon. I know it. Just be patient,” I insisted.

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