The curtains close
And the lizard gets
Its home back.
But Ruskin’s stories
Loses a friend.
If I do not remember the Mouse
Or the Conceited Python
Or the Lizard
Do I fail the stories or the story teller?
Do I fail the message or my education?
Do I blame my ear or my brain or my age or more real
things?
Do I philosophize, as if I am not already?
The curtains were ever of the tailor
As they were of the crop once.
The magic trick disappeared
Disappearance was the trick. A character. A Lizard.
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