I demanded my old man
be his own forecast of lace on the bridge in fog
a soft kind of shame
shame face
shame face caught in the rearview mirror

It was a rather vilifying possession of his body a contaminated skull mirror crack
The       being poured into time
And if YOU were in the room, what question would you ask us what ask say and always reading
a book just to stand up and die in village years

IN WHAT SELF-SWALLOWING HOLE DO YOU, NOW?

TO WHOM AM I NOW SPEAKING?
WHERE IS INTERROGATOR 1?
FOR WHOM DO YOU SPEAK?

WHOSE MOUTH DOES WEAR THESE STILLETO CHARMERS, HUH?

I hate for others to see my face as it appears in a mirror.