Fingers in an overcoat pocket. Fingers sticking out of a black leather glove.
The nails chewed raw. One play is called "Thieves' Market," another "Night in a Dime Museum."
The fingers when they strip are like bewitching nude bathers or the fake wooden limbs in a cripple factory.
No one ever sees the play: you put your hand in somebody else's pocket on the street and feel the action.

Poet: Charles Simic
Poem: Pocket Theatre
Volume: A Wedding In Hell
Year: Published/Written in 1994

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