Chocolatey Crystal Ball

When I worked as a waitress in Hollywood,
I would park my car near a Starbucks
then walk to the restaurant.
There was always a sea of empty Frappucino
cups on the sidewalk.
They weren't there long.
Hollywood hates anything unattractive,
even in it's gutters,
but they would multiply every day.
Empty cups of "coffee,"
with as many calories as a slice of cheesecake.
Their most interesting feature was
that unique dome-shaped lid.
These empty cups would have streaks of
chocolate sauce
dripping down the inside arches,
like remnants of a fudge and
whipped cream lava lamp.
I never thought twice about it
until one day I saw
the psychic medium I served breakfast to
sitting outside.
She was dressed in her usual moon-themed clothes
and sucking on a thick green straw of her
very own Venti Frappucino Cheesecake.
She was sucking hard,
and the whipped cream was dipping
far below her cup's sea level.
Then she stopped,
looked down and trailed
knife sharp
purple fingernails over the chocolate streaks.
She was tracing them through the plastic dome,
as if to clear her psychic view.
Once I was kind to her ailing Hungarian father.
He needed his food cut extra small.
Ever since, she was trying to get me to see her
"at no cost"
so I could know my future,
but I refused.
If the broad gets her inspiration from Starbucks,
I made the right choice.