If lies are things off which they live
And they promise what they cannot give
They may wave her the reddest flag,
but to me, they’re glittering glass.
If magicians they be, I stand gawking;
Turning somethings into nothing,
Hiding pennies up their arms—
But I’m sure they gave me the moon and the stars.
A peek in their magic cupboards,
All their secrets, mercilessly uncovered
And I wish for nothing more
Than to be just a little dumber
To better appreciate my generous lover.

Cloaked in black
And sparkly purple sequins,
Waving his magic wand in the air.
He performs
In front of one crowd
After another.

The audience gasp in awe
As he pulls a rabbit
Out of his top hat.
People wonder,
"How does he do it?"
When he performs yet another card trick.

Finally the show is over.
The magician stands on the stage, alone,
Getting ready for his next act.
Magic,
It may seem mystical for the ordinary person,
But to the magician,
It's an everyday thing.