The Fortune Teller

I knew you before
you knew of me.

A line across the palm,
a ship chartered out

to open sea, a moth
clinging to a small crack

in the plaster ceiling.

Just because I breath
does not mean I love you.

This too, is dream, curtains
in an evening's breeze,

sounds of thunder just
beyond the blackened fields,

pounds the sky like two
stones clapped together,

then, a faint drizzle.

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