Eight Ball

I consulted the inky eight ball,
fortune teller bobbing in dark blue liquid
like an old steel typewriter ball turning in an ocean.
I asked if the rubble-stone mill would be my new studio.
Nobody knows, it replied.
Plan B worked out better than we could have imagined,
a north studio and noisy neighbors,
just how I like it;
real urban living with a Walgreen's and Moonlight Wieners
on the corner.