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Postmodern Village
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Am I Capable of Getting Tricky?
by Francine DuBois

He was never any good at magic,
The bunnies never disappeared
And he never guessed the right card,
But we loved him for trying.

And yet, she could never forgive him
For failing her once, when he didn't
Guess her friends were holding a
Seven of diamonds: she still clasps

That grudge close to her chest now,
Haunting him in the grocery store,
"You're a failure; you'll never be happy."
He wishes he could make ghosts vanish,

Wishes his spellbooks could help him now,
But nothing works. She is always there,
And she becomes more powerful than illusion,
The concept he never understood.

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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