fresca?

the gypsy
takes my hand and stares
into the lines,
she bats a fly away
from her face
and yells out
for someone
to shut the screen
door.
I hear it slam.
I see trouble, she says.
lots and lots of trouble.
what are all these
lines?
do you mind if I smoke
she says,
lighting a cigarette.
when I see hands like this,
I don't know,
it breaks my heart.
take out a handkerchief
and wipe
the dark paint off my
hand, still
wet from work.
oh, she says. much better.
she touches the clean
lines
on my palm.
things seem to be going
well for you lately.
are you in show business
by any chance.
I see wonderful adventures
in your future.
do you want a fresca?