Painting An Inch Thick

The paint on my face is peeling
Too long without a fresh coat to
Cover up the blemish of mistaken

—identity—

People will see through
The raw, exposed grain of flesh
Much too real for

Aluminum-sided strangers
Weathering storms in happy hamlets
Hailing golf balls bouncing off

Simulated walls, chuting through
Spidered spouts of infantile
Disregard.


(Previously published in CER*BER*US, # XLVI,2002)

by Laurence Overmire

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