When you say
“I love you,”
Like that,
Did you practice
By a mirror?
And in all the furor
Over authenticity,
Was that you
Or mere duplicity?
Endless reflections
Of I-love-yous,
All backwards-right-to-left,
And I feel bereft
Of direction
When I stare up to see
Endless Funhouse Clowns,
Their eyes crinkle with glee -
Because when I shout:
I love you,
They know - I know . . .
That can’t be me.
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