Pickpockets, bless them,
They are an artistic lot
You can’t see them
Tho’ before your eyes they trot
Crowded trains, buses
Fairs, malls, market places
Are their favorite workshops
Where they melt into faces
Deft fingers armed with
Tiny blades and scissors on
Can beat in operations
Any master surgeon
The laws of their work
They faithfully defend
Their professional secrets
Divulge not to a
friend
A variant of the virus
In white collar is found
Government offices
and private
Are their active ground
They function with such magic
That can be labeled high art
No hidden cam keeps the laser
To penetrate an immoral heart!
No blade, no scissors, no cut
Their movement is so slick
Their invisible spirit fingers
Just extend and pick!
Pickpockets, bless them,
They have so dearly been
They speak, smile, greet and
My poor pouch cleverly clean!
Xavier Bage
Mon, March 14, 2016
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