I wish I could say
You stand out
Like the brightest star in the sky
But you don’t.
You stand out
Like a pink plastic flamingo
Lonely against the Fourth of July
Plumes and smudges.
The white tiles
Of your kitchen floor
—stained by our dirty steps,
our aimless fumbling in the night—
You don’t shine
Like you used to.
Our feet
Pirouetting like nobody’s business
And
Making us feel ashamed.
Our inflatable heads
Next to nothing
Drive
Away from nothing
Pasty fingertips pressed against
The windows of your cross-country
Getaway car.
If a cardboard cutout rooster
Is an owl
We are all just
Open eyes
Open ears
Open hearts and open mouths
Gazing into the
Blackness
Of the night
Silently chanting Whoooooo?
Hot Tin Roof: Reflective Surfaces
