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The suppleness of his fingers
You noticed first; backwards, forward
And sideways they moved, without facial grimacing
Or a hint of pain.
Coins didn’t just disappear
They reappeared behind the ears,
Not just his own, but of others’.
Jack of hearts and ace of spades;
No one ever saw them when he played cards
The other 50 danced at lightning speed
In his dexterous hands
Not once collapsing in a heap,
But settling in a neat pack
On the table; crisp and new
Untouched and unmarked by human hand.
The drinks flowed freely, glasses replenished
Without a drop spilled.
He moved saucers without touching cups
Regaling us with stories, fables and parables
His eyes gleaming, face inscrutable;
Coasters vanished, hands never moving .
He was much more than a barfly
He walked in a straight line
After the last rounds.
He was some kind of man;
Erudite, with a box of tricks for company. |
