Indian Rope Trick

A rope rises up into the air. A boy climbs up the rope. Up at the top, he disappears. The rope stays put. The boy’s not there. A clap of the hands. The rope Drops in a heap. The boy’s nowhere.

The man wears a turban and a beard. The boy’s a street Arab, all in rags. There they are, in the public square. Up goes the rope. The man gives the word. Up goes the boy, shaking a leg. The rope goes limp. The boy’s not there.

They say sometimes he reappears. The bearded one goes up the rope In hot pursuit, knife in his teeth. Body parts drop with a pulpy thump Out of the mist, but the boy cheats death. Up he pops, no worse for wear.

Read all about it. Here’s the scoop. They say the rope must be a prop. Some report a puff of smoke. Some say it must be staged at dusk. One sahib remembers feeling queer From something pungent in the air.

A broth of a boy, barefoot and shorn. A man with a brow like polished wood. There they were, in the great bazaar. The rope was a snake. It hung in the air Above the throng. At his master’s word The boy groped up and then was gone.

You whip your rope with dapper flair. You let it go and it floats like a charm. You bark at your boy in an ancient tongue. You show the rabble how it’s done. You clench your shiv and go after him, Flouting the laws that all hold dear.

The rope must have a mind of its own. The boy has got to fly the coop. Maroon him midway to the moon Beyond the dark side of a doubt. Abracadabra: I make as I speak. Walk the talk or the trick won’t work.

Send me up your spellbound rope. Wipe me off the face of the earth. Make it look like there’s no hope Before you bring me back to life. I fall to pieces. I have no prayer. My fate is neither here nor there.

Dupe us, shaman. Rope us in. Boy, go missing. Make us gape. Here we are, creating a stir. It’s up to us to talk you up, Déjà vu all over again. The truth is hanging by a hair.

The rope climbs halfway to the stars. Up at the top, the boy disappears. The traveler’s tale grows like a vine. See if you can top this one: The rope’s coiled up, the boy’s not there. Rub your eyes: that’s him right here.