America is a wild, dancing gypsy.

She will draw you in with her laughter, her dark, flashing eyes.

Her lithe dance, the bright colors of her costume, will seduce you, make you love her and want to believe her.

She will invite you to sit at her table so she may tell you all about your life, who you are, what you want. Yet, only she can read the cards; they are stacked in her favor.

With hot breath in your ear, she will say that you are exceptional, you will have the perfect mate, be rich one day, maybe even become President.

She will lie to your face and make you swallow every word, rob you blind and convince you it is her just due, knife you in the back and leave you bleeding in the gutter.

The crowd gathering to watch you gasp your last breath will say you deserved it; after all, you were a seducer of women, a false prophet, a lier, a thief, a closet terrorist.

Then, the gypsy will drive away in her wagon of mysteries, her lilting laughter drawing in the desperate, the confused, the most unexceptional among us.