Looking at my forearm under the desk lamp,
I see an indention previously unnoticed.
Can I now have a fortuneteller read my arm
for signs of my destiny?

It may have been the trick of the light,
inducing me to think my vein had become
a roadmap to palm readers.

Looking again, I wonder what
I think I saw.

Will this stubborn awareness
coupled with sudden self-diagnosing
become more pronounced
as I age?