In Sheep's Clothing

I love seeing the looks

on the faces of the shopkeepers

in the occult store down the block

sudden surprise

or annoyance

immediately morphing into pleasant

plaster

shop-keep smiles

I don't look like I belong there

they think I'm a tourist

come to gawk at them

or that I'm gift shopping for a

hippie-witch friend

or relative

They have no idea

until I decide to

open my mouth

and tell them what I need

why I'm there

and they hear me use the words

suddenly realize I'm serious

I know what I'm talking about

I know what I'm doing

and they take a step back

and look me up and down

as if to say

*Really?

You??*

I used to look the obvious occultist

when I was younger

and still learning

passing me on the street

one would've not been at all surprised to learn

that I was a black magickian

Hell

one might've even assumed that

to begin with

just by my outfit

But that was a long time ago

Now to all outward appearance

I could be any other computer nerd

But I'm still a cultist

though a different colour now

I learned the value of

not broadcasting myself

my every intimate personality trait

to anyone who happens to pass me on the street

I learned to pass

as a Normal

as a Mundane

(please don't make me say

"Muggle")

and now no one notices me

I can go about my daily business

and my sorcerous shenanigans

without attracting unwanted attention

without arousing any suspicions

of satanic blood pacts

or ****** sacrifices made

to blind idiot gods

which makes everything so much more

pleasant

But sometimes I forget

that the Me people see

isn't really me

until I see the shopkeeper's face

down at The Magick Box

at Bell, Book, and Candle

at Foxcraft's

at The Crystal Cauldron

or whatever it calls itself today

in this particular town

I'm there to buy a component

some specific mineral

or herb

or root

or ritual tool

or color of candle

required for some particular spell

or sigilization

or pathworking

or ceremony

or casting

Magick is now modern

and so when I need the dried petals

of a rare and deadly Black Lotus blossom

to throw a curse on the drug-dealing ****

who moved in across the street

and keeps threatening my neighbors

for the crime of daring to look

in his direction

I don't need to form an expedition to Tibet

to climb the peak of

the only mountain where it grows

no, I'm an American

other people do the hard work

so I can simply pull out a credit card

and laugh silently to myself

at the look on the shopkeeper's face

that says

What on Earth

does he

want with that??

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