by A. J. Thompson

Created on: April 18, 2008

The fortuneteller machine was quite old.
Paint was faded, more rust then not.
"One quarter, One tarot" the sign read.
"Let me read your fortune, it will be true."
Promised the metal man inside
Wearing a turban of blue,
with bright colors on his shirt,
giant hoop earrings hung from his lobes,
marbles stared out at me for his eyes.
I dug a quarter from my pocket,
And slid it in,
The fortuneteller's robotic arm,
Creaking quite cantankerously,
Reached out and dropped a card into the slot.
It slid slowly down the chute,
And landed in my hand.
With curiosity, and trepidation,
Taking my time,
I turned the card to see,
And in fancy written script,
It said-
"Don't believe everything you read."

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