A True Story

She's imobelized and hidden At the back of the book In a black and white picture She sees your reaction to what she offers. In some of these windows She looks like she can't see through the thick blinds In others She looks as if she could just burst out laughing At our puny little world. She knows, Like some people think I know, That it's all a game For the ones not trully among us. It must be so hard To have these eyes Blink without your permission . I've never read anything like it I'll never write anything like it No one will bother to read it But I can play both parts. She's so seductive She counts the smiles And when you think she's serious The reflection lense saw it wrong Let yourself see it. If I told others about this They would turn it into trash It's hard to grasp her warmth in a dumpster It's better When you're a blasphemy in your parent's eyes. I wonder what she would say to me if I met her "Child listen you have your world..." And I would kiss her, lips barely touching, and tell her "I want yours, darling, all I want is your world." I can be a grownup too. I almost didn't recognize her in Power Politics My mouth must have droped open My eyes must have been wide I must have been throbbing uncontrolably. It changes from book to book you know? This lust for the empty air you mold. I would tell her all my secrets If only she could hear them. From book to book The faces change, the words explode at different times But all I know Is that I love her.

This poem is for Margaret