He practices his misdirection
using banter
that was last witty
in nineteen thirty-one.
An infinite stream of scarves
leap from his sleeves
but they are still stained with
last night's dinner.
His Chinese linking rings
are no longer
politically correct.
He pulls rabbit after
rabbit
out of his ass
and still wonders why
the rabbits are pissed.
He cuts a woman in half
but is eviscerated
by her after.
In short, his tricks
are broken.
And yet, with his arms raised
in a gesture of victory
and showmanship,
he disappears as the closing
music plays
from the auditorium
of Life
and waits for applause
from an non-existent
audience, and finally
and with a flourish,
exits stage left
from
what was always
a dark and empty theater.
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