Tall and thin.
Tall and thin with a grin.
An ironic smile, with guile
To permit an opening. Friendly enough
So that approach might coach
In anticipation a reciprocal
I saw him in the subway station.
No one else about.
In this city late at night he might,
Considering his dress
Evoke panic, shouts, distress.
He seemed harmless enough
Made of funny friendly stuff.
“Hello,” he said. Shook his head.
“Sorry about those.” Indicated ragged clothes.
“I am, in this moment, at these dates,
In dire financial straits”.
“I am”, one eyebrow rose, “a magic man.”
He pinched his nose. “I can produce wonders.”
He curled his thumb, touched his chin
To indicate he would begin.
I heard distant thunders.
“Watch!”, he said, and a red
Balloon popped out from his palm.
Without a qualm he twitched his nose.
The balloon arose.
But on his toes he poked the thing.
It sprouted, first, one wing, then another.
Tweeted. Then flew down the tunnel.
“Look!”, he cried, produced a funnel, out from which
Poured golden streams. He grinned and from his eyes
Sprang glowing gleams. I leaped back.
With a “crack!” he shook his beard
I peered behind a nearby post.
There he stood, most delighted
At my surprise.
He winked his eyes.
I wished him luck.
Gave him a buck.