stopped at the light at 12th and pike yesterday morning on my way to work, I witnessed the strangest, no- most magical thing. a goth/punk fellow walking his black lab, followed by half a dozen black crows. they were milling about in the trees, following him a few paces behind, diving down, hopping about, flying back up, eating whatever hansel and gretel crumbs he was spilling in his wake. I thought maybe they were gonna get tired after he crossed the street. but they followed him and his dog when he turned down the block, and again as he turned by the park. I thought maybe about going up to him and asking 'do you realize you are being followed by half a murder of crows?' but I did not, and kept biking.
closer to my work, there is a fountain, normally filled with water, as fountains are apt to do, but in that moment, devoid of it's usual cache, the cement was rain wet, the submersible light fixtures exposed. so, too, drying out, were tens of coins, a rough glittering of mostly copper, some silver. I thought maybe about stopping, collecting them all, gathering up people's wishes and setting them free (er, reappropriating them), but I did not, and kept biking, circling the fountain once more before beelining it to work.
is magic still magic if it remains observed? or is there a participatory element that completes the equation?
I heard the word MAGIC on your lips.
I saw the word MAGIC on the book you pulled down.
it sits in my ears, lays flat against my eyes.
I can almost taste it.
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