“a Reading of tea Leaves in a china cup”
Weaved into a pile of oak leaves
A 50-caliber machine gun plays hide-n-seek
Mounted on a desert stained Toyota truck
Patriots, rebels, terrorists, or what have you,
Hoot, holler, spin the turret about
Spitting fire at this–n–that
She wears a flying bandanna-scarf
Red against blue–black
Her face twists into churning contorted emotions
Moldy leaves camouflage against the dirt
Raked into a decaying heap near the mulch machine
On the last day of fall
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