With my finger aside my nose and a quick nod,
aside the chimney I remain,
no ascent.

I flail my fingers,
like octopi tentacles,
Svengali-like, to mesmerize,
but nothing changes, all remains.

I tap my wand three times,
fan my cape over the magic box,
but nothing disappears,
nor appears, for that matter.

I reach up my sleeve,
and draw no ace,
so I dare not attempt
to saw you in half!

I get tongue-tied
with sleight of hand,
I lose track of all those fingers.

I can, however,
honestly, truly,
levitate, for real,
on cue.

I cherish this ability,
allows me to escape,
whenever I need to.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013