A Word on Magic (and the right places for the things)

If Magic is light & fleeting, then I know it by the feeling:

My face flushes warm in spots and perhaps there is some meaning.

My heart feels like it’s flying, connected to something bigger,

Everything is swelled & buzzing, ticking & jumping: a full discernible vigor.

If this is Magic, I hate to say it but I don’t think this happens.

I’ve rarely felt, at least in real life, swept up in visceral passion.

I don’t think I believe in Magic. I can’t see how I could.

With so much greed and asshole-ery screwing up the world.

When I feel it, it isn’t real, I’m experiencing a screen.

That’s the few times I’ve really felt something. Anything.

I try not to think about this.

It makes me a little sad.

Instead I keep my head down. I’ll grab my journal or a legal pad.

An office is not the place for these revelatory moments.

Neither is a restaurant, or street that’s filled with homeless.

Magic doesn’t happen here, no matter what “The Office” told us.

Sometimes I think the only Magic left is on TV,

some blog or tweet that’s written, it’s trapped behind a screen.

I can’t find the feeling of Magic, or human connection, even when I try.

You have to be sneaky and careful when you look in others’ eyes.

People are broken and hardened and it’s so very rare,

that they will let you close enough to find the Magic there.

So I just keep on going and hope that everything’s alright,

hope that I’m making right decisions, hope it won’t keep me up at night.

Because I’ll have to work tomorrow and as I’ve already said,

Magic doesn’t happen in an office (and isn’t Magic the point??

The reason for the suffering: to find the exclamation points?)

No, it doesn’t happen where I can see, so I’ll watch Netflix instead.


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