House of Falling Cards

Are these card walls hollow?

Paper thin things don’t last

What significance do these numbers-
jumbled, random or ordered, bear
To me anymore

What patterns are masked
in the trivial pursuits of diamonds lost,
kingdoms un-conquered

What are magicians really searching for
beneath the layers of cardboard

The dexterity will fade,
mechanics grips will loosen
What then will we grab onto
when our hands are old

Where will all those late night hours go
when our audiences’ eyes finally blink
or turn away- strangers on subways,
with real homes to get to, or new cities to see

When those trains stop running
who will really ride these Bikes
in circles forever

there’s emptiness trapped within the
walls of a hollow card case

I hold the cards, I feel nothing

If I suddenly dropped them
will my hands be homeless, or free

ambitions on paper
for the wind to keep