Sleight of Hand

Routine was the theme
 He'd wake up, wash and pour himself into uniform
 Something he hadn't imagined being
 As the merging traffic passed
 He found himself staring down
 At his own hands
 Not remembering the change
 Not recalling the plan
 Was it?
 He was okay
 But wondering
 About wandering
 Was it age?
 By consequence?
 Or was he moved by sleight of hand?
 Mondays were made to fall
 Lost on a road he knew by heart
 It was like a book he read in his sleep
 Endlessly
 Sometimes he hid in his radio
 Watching others pull into their homes
 While he was drifting
 On a line
 Of his own
 Off the line
 Off the side
 By the by
 As dirt turned to sand
 As if moved by sleight of hand
 And when he reached the shore of his clip-on world
 He resurfaced to the norm
 Organized his few things, his coat and keys
 Any new realizations would have to wait
 Till he had more time
 More time
 A time to dream
 To himself
 He waves goodbye
 To himself
 I'll see you on the other side
 Another man moved by sleight of hand