For the SLAM, about a quiet accomplishment.
|Two rehearsals went awry.|
First I stumbled, dropped the wand
I heard the heckling audience's hiss
and then onstage I felt
stealing all the magic words
I ever knew.
Of course there is a trick to it.
I was under the illusion
I was under
would be effortless, the show'd go on
without me after all it was
a commonplace performance for the man
behind the curtain, for all the men
behind every curtain
and I said
if I was not the world’s best
well I could always adopt another occupation
I could take on an apprentice I could
I conjured you from soul and cell and bone
with nothing up my sleeve
in one swift sleight of
to rave reviews,
a living breathing rabbit
from an enchanted empty hat.