practically magic

can't write a script
for the magic man
all smoke and mirrors
stilettoed hands
tight-ropes water
ripped up palms
wakens talitha
puts your head in the sand
sips wine from water
has no fixed abode
feeds a god delusion
on a lonely road
pulls bread from a hat
with a sat-nav for fish
a sixth-sense near sycamores
a real death-wish
wakes up acting
like he never got hit
puts your fist in his side
makes you think he's legit
when he walks through walls
there's nowhere to hide
as he goes up in smoke
leaves for you to decide.




posted for poetry jam
prompt: do you believe in magic?