Cellophane

The brittle days
the times I make you crazy with me
wanting you to see me
jumping up and down–
a child in your field of vision
at a responsible age

(I tell you I’m hiding but you always see)

School was something
I never wrapped my mind around
Sublime the patina of my scars
inside and out I am healed
miles away still
from your smoke stacks
and your yards

(even when it hurts I want you to see me)

naked
not this sweater-covered
faux bon vivant
edging towards sanity
just enough
to keep things interesting
your eyes with hoods still
intrigued

(you look through but not through me)

I never felt the same way
later
about a butterfly
with a pin through it
under glass
sacrificed for the greater good

(it can be seen, can’t it)

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