Gypsy Paintings of Washington Square

He went out in the rain of the blowing square where the eternal flame had died and the old unknown graves were washing up from the earth. No one had taken down the flag. All the rangers had fled in fear of the end and the end has no need for triangular folds.

In some other room the gypsy is making white tea. Turtle shells and Tarot cards are strewn about the room. Black candles and incense burners and chicken bones and zombie potions. Zig-zag reed flutes and prayer rugs and black crystal balls.

He stumbles in from the rain and sees christian beads with crosses, orange robes, black hats, cresent moons, cactus hearts. She offers him white tea but he only drinks black coffee. She offers him palm readings, chart sketches, star alignments, oracle caves, forgotten books, black crystal, dirt drawings, prophesies of rain. He has no need he tells her we all know the future. She sighs in red robes and falls upon the chair. He puts roman copper coins across her eyes and walks back out into the storm.