Perhaps in a Cafe

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Perhaps in a cafe in Rome

I will suddenly be a ‘Romantic’

swept up in black coffee

and cigarettes

like glamorous women

on old movie screens

~

Perhaps in a cafe in Rome

I can willingly choose to be ‘me’

as though I was only a ‘look’

a ‘face’

waiting to be found

beneath the mirage of so many places

that have graced this skin

since I first glanced at a magazine

~

Perhaps in a cafe at home

on some ordinary street

I’ll accept my fate with grace

and leave no concern

for pictures

or an age

stamped upon my bones

like a countdown clock

reeling me in

strangers in a sea of cameras

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the world has made us strangers

lips without lipstick

and I am without a name

~

what will they call me when my life is spent?

when I am buried

or worse

burnt

cast out into the wind

~

for there are no mirrors beyond the time of death

no facebook

no instagram

~

the earth cannot validate this mind

that cries out for a compliment 

~

the wind cannot caress this face

when all I am is ash

I’ll Remember

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I’ll remember how I wanted to tell you everything

rummaging around in my head

I’ll remember the crumbs I gave you

and the tears that threatened to shed

I’ll remember how I locked it all away

and let you speak instead

 

-Mother & Daughter in the café