off his game

the magician
is tired,
off his game
tonight,
instead of a
rabbit he
pulls out a chicken
from his black
top hat.
he doesn't
come close
to guess
anyone's
age or weight.
he's been
drinking beer
all night,
eating nachos
from the bar.
there is cheese
on his lapel.
guacamole on
his once
white shirt.
he taps his wand
against
the box, but
it's empty when it
flies open.
no doves, nothing.
only one handkerchief
comes out of his
sleeve. it's a long
night and even
longer still
when he saws
his assistant in
half and blood
pools on the stage.