Hiding from Self
Do you remember all the times you changed your story, backtracked and passed the buck, sent angels down into hell with your sweet-talking lies, all those years on the run, holing up in strange places, jungles and flop houses and working cruise ships as a waiter? Of course you don’t, you’ve changed your story so many times you’ve lost track of who you are, you bounce strange children on your knee and think they’re your grandchildren, you, a no-count void of progeny.
Take a hard look at that passport picture, does it bear any resemblance, how is it they let you thru customs? How many languages have you twisted out of shape, how big is your make-up kit, what do you see when you look in the mirror, changing eye color, snipped facial hair? You grow six inches taller or shrink six inches on impulse.
Soon there’ll be nothing left but the screams in your head.
People will move away from you on the bus.