In the emerald city,
I found my magic whole,
Oyster shucked at
the Voodoo, taken
with a bit of horseradish.
At the Crossroads
by the Lucky Dog,
dropped a dime for
spirit and took a
communion and
danced.
The omen spoke
of a plane trip,
one the hag will
undertake, and which,
from the moment
the engines whir to
life--- will go horribly,
terribly wrong.
The way before me opens,
oysters at Voodoo,
and clams at the cross
and an omen that all
the workings are
in motion.
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