Sleight Of Hand

Routine was the theme

He'd wake up wash and pour himself into uniform

Something he hadn't imagined being

As the merging traffic passed he found himself staring down at his own hands

Not remembering the change

Not recalling the plan

Was it?

He was okay but wondering about wandering

Was it age? By consequence?

Or was he moved by sleight of hand?

Mondays were made to fall

Lost on a road he knew by heart

Wrapped in the same old walls

It was like a book he read in his sleep, endlessly

Sometimes he hid in the radio watching other pull into their homes

While he was drifting

On a line of his own

Off the line, on the side

Bye the by, as dirt turned to sand

As if moved by sleight of hand

When he reached the shore of his clip-on world

He resurfaced to the norm

Organized his few things, his coat and keys

Any new realizations would have to wait

Til he had more time, more time

Time to dream, to himself, he waves goodbye to his own self

See you on the other side

Another man, moved by sleight of hand