Moscow

i’ve been riding the coattails since ‘55
an aging crusty rasped
so i seen more than a hundred Vanishings

me and the other virgins sat in awe
around the trash blaze
watching them talk

once the usher gave me the wrong ticket
a greasy girl with dreadlocks began
i was up front rubbing elbows with
wrinkly women in fur coats and their nervous husbands
the slickhaired kid next to me got picked
i leaned in close my chin practically up on the stage and
her voice dropped to a whisper
i Heard

bullshit
the old one barked

well
she paused
i couldn’t make out all of it but
it sounded something like…

we all mouthed the words to ourselves like
they were a magic spell
that’s what they were supposed to be anyway
right before they go in the box He
cups their ear and moves his lips and sorta grins
then he taps the door twice with his wand and
they’re gone
and it isn’t just some trick
they’re not under the floorboards
they’re not behind a mirror
they’re just
gone

the old one nodded grimly
this punk i knew got picked
he continued
a real gutter kid
it took him ten years but
he got picked
you shouda seen his face when he
Heard
it flashed across him
like lightning dancing on a tin roof

hell
she added wistfully

i gulped a few times and
managed to stammer
where do
where do you think they go

they shared a knowing look
he nodded to her
she opened her mouth
carefully and said
we think
we think they go to

Moscow.