Keep your fingers
crossed, somebody might
get it right this time,
your cloudy mirror shows
a brother, a son, past and future
lover, wide-toothed friend, spoiled
milk liar, insect infested personality
wound, one that refuses to use
normal band-aids, simply hidden
like not lifting up an arm to a handshake,
like water-buffalo in the plains of missouri
a mime, a piano falling.

Others I used to be.
They were like you, too.
Caution, because too much
telling can lead to cerebral
swelling and i might split
like an overheated bag of popcorn.
we are not at the circus so take off
your mask and start yelling
into this bucket
of shallow water.