Missing Piece

MISSING PIECE

You’ve fallen again for the wiles

of the traveling illusionist

with his proverbial "step this way"

bit, that subtle slight of hand

which leaves you leaning in

to see where the silver coin

of your contentment has melted away

like your spouse in the crowd.

Though you could swear

you kept your vision fixed

on the circling circumstance

of solo-cups, you find

at each consecutive reveal nothing 

real but your own perplexity

and a new-found hesitance

in your ability to differentiate 

what’s empty from what matters. 

Self-assurance sufficiently battered,

it’s then the magician—who,

now that you think about it,

looks oddly familiar—smiles,

as if this re-opening of the question

were the requisite turn-over 

of turf, softening the ground enough

that the next part really lands:

a laugh like he knows something,

a petition to take your hand

and reach into your pocket,

showing the gathering crowd

whatever it is you find.

Imagine: what you're looking for

right there, in your very own

pocket, the entire time!