fortune telling

you move in with
a gypsy woman
who goes by
the name of miranda,
she's got a crystal
ball and wears
a red scarf
around her head.
there is a large
neon sign flickering
and attracting every
known species of
flying insects right
to us on the front
porch as we sit
outside drinking
mohitos. it's too hot
to be inside.
there is no
air conditioning.
her business has
been slow. and as
you sit with her,
being quiet
in the awful
heat, she looks at
you and says,
i predict big things
for you, billy. i predict
that you will
suddenly get ambition
and go out and make
us lots of money
with your new
found spirit. you
don't even look at her
as you swat away
a black fly, and a
mosquito competing
to bite your sweaty
face and
you say, shut up
with your stupid
predictions. why
don't you go down
to the race track,
or take a trip up
to atlantic city and
put your so called
fortune telling skills
to good use.
she begins to cry,
sipping on her
mohito, sucking on
the sugar cane.
i believe that you
will leave me one
day, she sobs. i not
only believe it, but
i predict it. could
happen you say,
and finally swat
the fly with your
winless racing
form. could happen.