You seemed
to love me
from the first
smile.
Enchanted
as I was
by your laughing
eyes,
I was lost
in their
hocus pocus
but
it was
the cut deeply
by life's
Houdini swords
piercing the trunk
escape act;
the rusted razor
circumstance,
on wrists dangling
clinched
white glove
fists,
the bluest smoke
and troublesome
mirrors
of the world
that
made us feel
we had known
each other
unending.
Lovers clutch
stretched across
an age of majik
boundless
in time.
Hot blooded passion
coupled oddly
with cold feet
and buttocks,
and under the
covers,
a warmest heart
embrace,
I emptied
myself
into that smile.
Mornings
curtain call-
encore then
cigarettes
and French Press
coffee outside,
slow as abracadabra
then with
no sense of
showmanship or
slight of hand
you told me.
You told me of
your dreams.
I couldn’t be
the one.
I said it wouldn’t
be fair to
you,
much as I
would love to
live happy
lost
in your Sirens
Spell.
Tomorrows children
must find another
Father,
a better man
than I
had ever been.
Part of me disappears
before your very
eyes,
now you see-
now you don’t:
nothing up my
sleeve.
Out of nothing
disappointed tears-
collateral damage,
of a trick bag
I have never
quite
unpacked.
