Wielders of Magic

Prestidigitator in my pocket,
show me a card trick.
The Ace of Spades is in my hand;
how can you know
that was the card I chose?

Illusionist in my eyes,
conceal from view this urban sprawl.
With bold strokes of your magic wand,
black plumes become white clouds;
parking lots turn to prairies,
gutters to refreshing springs,
skyscrapers to redwoods,
and my heart turns
from fiberglass to flesh.

Enchanter in my mind,
conjure up a mist for me.
Recite the incantation:
All is as it should be.
Make me forget I spied that ace
up the magician’s sleeve.

January 2002


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