Richard flickered his velvet cape
then slapped a kitten lung
onto the restaurant table.
'Is this your card?'
The diners stared at the congealing venal blood.
A child began to cry.
If anything, his thirtieth guess
had only made the situation worse.
Face-up cards, receipts,
a jaws harp and a false eye
cluttered the tablecloth.
'Ah. I knew it wasn't,' said Richard
with a winning fart (the first rule of magic:
misdirection), reaching inside his trousers
for the budgie heart.
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