Magic Trick

One morning—for a blink—a black rabbit
forages in downtown Seattle. I witness,
grin—the rabbit knows shortcuts
to Wonderland.

Then, poof!
The ears, the rabbit, vanish
into a regal silhouette
distinctly corvine.
She—a crow—raises her critical eye,
smoothes her plumage.
I am not Alice.

For a blink, this crow was my rabbit.
As her beak prodded planting strip,
her tail swung high
and those rounded feathers split
to make two ears, soft, dark, lupine.
Presto! A black rabbit two blocks from REI.

It could happen. The next night, I did glimpse
the bouncy, silent passage
of a feral bunny
at the Valley Ridge Playfield parking lot

but did not follow. In the darkness
I admit it is that crow who called hocus-pocus.

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