Each day we think ourselves into a part
remember lines we know we'll say again
but get the reading better. We are vain
looking in mirrors, painting on our heart
the lines that make us lovelier than true.
Eyes are the heart's outlying viceroys
painted they talk in shadows that are noise.
And we add lashes, stick them on with glue.
The mirrors magnify. We grow in size
in our own minds and go out on a stage
love becomes Lover, anger becomes Rage.
A different rule of consequence applies
and then we hear applause. Smooth on cold cream
wipe wake. Is life or theatre the dream?