heels

i am with myself--not with the lie
the lie i left on the other side of the fence
as i climbed
foot upon face, face upon glass, teeth tasting flesh
to greener pastures, to defecation fields ...

the neighbors' fence
that show
i wore a red dress and heels
and danced
first slowly, for i'd never worn heels
then excitedly as i learned to step with only my toes
how it must have looked
when my act ended i bowed; there was an uproarious applause
i lifted my eyes and saw, dejectedly, it was not for me
there was a finale: a giant screen
i could not look away
and yet saw nothing there
but the crowd in their avarice surrounded me on stage
as i had blocked their view
it was then i learned that nothing's sacred ...

the thing ended and not a soul came to greet me
i hurried to my chair among the great mass of common spectator seating and found my coat
i moved impatiently amongst the bellowing cavalcade to the exit door
and found my car stolen ...

the little tents in the refugee camps look like fields of headstones in the moonlight ...

i glance down at my hands
not flesh but words
glistening in the moonlight
so freshly and eloquently lolled from the oft bitten and begotten tongues of my forefathers':

"i am with myself--not with the lie"
so i must be the lie, after all