The Magician

April 28, 2011
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The man’s hands flow
Smooth
Cradling the air
Performing acrobatics with the tips
Of his pale, thin
Fingers.

The deck of cards separates
And reforms
Their blue-backed designs
Darting
Dancing
As if made of nothing at all.

My eyes swallow the absurd colors
Of childhood delight
And I pity him
For he can not see
The magic with me.





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