Mask

My mask. I wear it tightly, to be honest I change it out nightly . Sometimes long sharp teeth and hungry eyes, sometimes inviting smile and soft lines. Many faces I’ve worn in many places , when they get switched out they leave no traces . Many many I’s. Many faces and one disguise. Working on an organizational plot these days, You go there and he goes there and you do what she says. Make sense? Line up all the characters in past present and future tense ? Or is it pretense ? Am I so dense that I can't make sense of which side I want to be of the Fence?

Something solid and real that's what what I want to feel. The heat of an iron or the slice of steel. None of that hurts worse than not knowing what's real.

Masks. They come on many shapes and sizes , some are exactly what they seem and some are surprises . The only thing that we know for sure... the sun sets and the sun rises .