Bathurst

I saw a fortune-teller's child
in the window today
Palms pressed against the glass
Her face framed by a dancing halo of black curls
She appeared
To peer
into the souls of oblivious folk
Who drifted her by the glass beyond.

Where did she learn
that black art
I wondered.
Did she see birds of prey ? Or prey themselves ?
What beasts did she discover within
the secret hearts of men ?

Moreover.
Did her mother
Smiling out the window
As my bus passed by
Tell her I would see her today ?