I Believe in Magic

Two brothers, one older and one much younger

Or one younger, and one much older

— That’s probably closer to the mark

Their quiet voices barely carried

through the pre-show murmur of the crowd

 

The younger: How do you think he does it? Is it really

magic?

Nah, it’s just a trick. There’s no such thing as magic.

I don’t believe in it.

 

The crowd started to quiet as the magician–if there is

such a person–walked through the parents on chairs ringing

the assembled children, so many children, who sat, faces upturned, looking

as if they believed

 

And with a swirl of long-practiced hands over a few bottle caps

placed

on the floor in the style of a street performance, the show began

 

There’s no such thing as magic?

 

I believe in magic

I’ve watched those young upturned faces and

the older as well

as their eyes went wide

when balls disappeared and reappeared or

playing cards changed their colors

How could I not believe?

 

I believe in magic

I’ve heard the gasps and breaths drawn sharply

I’ve heard the rapid, whispered, questioning voices

as keys were bent or

torn objects became whole again

How could I not believe?

 

I believe in magic

I’ve felt from the crowd around me

the excitement, the joy, the awe

as reality is suspended and

the cares of the world are set aside

if only for the length of the show

How could I not believe?

 

I’ll reassume the cares of the world

tomorrow or the next day or maybe not ever

But for now

for today

I believe in magic.

How could I not believe?

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