Take a gander into the cup

See how they pool at the bottom,

writing out their sights so clearly,

leaf by leaf?

Only the finest china is used for this,

my student.

And you must brew it for exactly three minutes,

no more, no less.

Drain it fully,

the dregs will appear.

Tut, tut,

do not compare this fine art

to a charlatan’s crystal ball reading.

And no,

that is not a wonky cross.

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Would you like some tea

with that milk? You’d say slyly

regarding my pale cuppa,

resting your head idly against the bookcase

searching for the storms.

My mouth would twitch,

flicking between smile and frown.

The window always opened and closed

at that point, seemingly of

its own accord

and a stack of papers would flurry in

to land by our outstretched legs.

What do we have today, then?

You’d muse, lifting a sheet

to your face. Ah, of course;

Ghost Writers. Let’s help them

find their stories, shall we?

And with that, we’d begin.

 

Parking ticket

Mind the clock

as the ticket-master

prepares to drop

 

the white leaf

onto the window;

a grim flash of teeth.

 

Upholding his duty.

The passenger inside flares

her nostrils at this cruelty

 

and in a flash of skirts

rises from her seat

to kick him where it hurts.