Yesterday, 11:05 AM
Magic
Walking through the park tonight, I feel like rotten milk
watching a pretty couple watch the stars
dance to their own music. It's winter cold
early this year; he leans into his lover's coat
like some Buddhist tree falling, slow
and mindless, irreversible. A quick kiss
on the lips.
They look like they've been doing this
for weeks.
Tucked behind the fountain
where the birds no longer come to drink,
a whisper-fingered hustler
palms another six of hearts.
I catch the look they give each other
—sly, almost reluctant
to acknowledge what they've witnessed here
behind their mother's backs, then off
they run, leaving a trail of laughter
thick enough to eat. A breadcrumb
for the moon, two dollars
shaking in the wind. I know a good magician
never tells, so I don't even bother
troubling the man to ask
how anyone pulls it off:
standing there exposed,
lying to their faces
openly
and making people want it,
making being fooled the point.
Walking through the park tonight, I feel like rotten milk
watching a pretty couple watch the stars
dance to their own music. It's winter cold
early this year; he leans into his lover's coat
like some Buddhist tree falling, slow
and mindless, irreversible. A quick kiss
on the lips.
They look like they've been doing this
for weeks.
Tucked behind the fountain
where the birds no longer come to drink,
a whisper-fingered hustler
palms another six of hearts.
I catch the look they give each other
—sly, almost reluctant
to acknowledge what they've witnessed here
behind their mother's backs, then off
they run, leaving a trail of laughter
thick enough to eat. A breadcrumb
for the moon, two dollars
shaking in the wind. I know a good magician
never tells, so I don't even bother
troubling the man to ask
how anyone pulls it off:
standing there exposed,
lying to their faces
openly
and making people want it,
making being fooled the point.