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Let’s face it

I’m never going to be the tab A

that slips into your slot B


more the square peg to your round hole

—the slab of bacon

at your bat mitzvah


Oh we’ve had our moments

but it’s as if I left my heart in Sausalito

—always the wrong end of your golden gate


It’s probably my fault, fully

but I wouldn’t be convicted by a jury of your peers

there’s no smoking gun


Vitamin Water

David Blaine,

the writer not the magician, lives and works with his family

in rural Michigan.


David has had poetry, prose, essays, reviews and interviews

published widely online, on air, and in print.


His last book of poems, Antisocial, was published in 2009 by Outsider Writers Press.


David is presently collecting stories best described as flash non-fiction.


You can sample these at

Tell Me Your Story.



only a magic eight ball declaring

“It is decidedly so” and besides

all the incriminating hoof prints

came from the horse you rode in on


you don’t want me to be

the bull in your china shop

the fox in your hen house

or the tiger in your tank


and I’m not cut out to be

a Piccadilly

at your three-ring circus


I think it’s time I got outta Dodge

time you took a long walk

off a short pier


I think I hear your mother calling


“It is decidedly so.”


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