magic is the worst job
anyone can think of.
each time i catch the dove
sleeping in my hat
i think how impotent
i am, how really no one
gives a damn about illusion.
if you want to see
a magic trick
give me fifty bucks
and watch how fast
it disappears.
not only that:
once down the hatch,
i'll let you marvel at the fact
your wallet’s gone-
as i am, shazaam!
by sleight of hand
transported
via tamazepam
to the nearest gutter,
to offer you safe passage
from the footpath
to your cab.
i’ll give you a minute
to decide if you’d like
to help me with my act.
in exchange,
i offer my assistant
who comes with cape
and benefits; or else
as i mentioned,
buy me a drink:
you and your friends
can sit rabbit-eared
and listen
while i school you in defeat.