3.

Marzipan titbits, little human ears,
noses, hands and feet. How long
since you've eaten? How far
have I travelled dreaming I'd find you
standing in a room like this
in front of a full-length mirror?

4.

Here, sign the guest book.
I'm documenting the occasion. Already
my folder of clippings is bulging.
I have snaps of the desktop
where this is happening.
I call it poesie verité.

5.

Down a dim corridor
like others in this mansion
I follow a big red setter
I met begging scraps from the table.
I've thrown him a finger, a bitter
big toe. Ask him where we're going.

6.

Have you ever hiked in the desert?
It's nothing like here
where the forest is so like a house,
even now in uncurtained November.
Our true shape, I believe, is a sphere
or pandimensional ellipse.

7.

Back at the party, the shovelmouths
haven't even slowed down. Early arrivers
carry their stomachs in shopping carts.
Singing waiters dispense their folk
philosophy: Shrimp or salmon,
your choice is absolutely free.

8.

She's alive, she's real, you won't
believe your eyes, they sing.
But I know they couldn't mean you
who once found me by the road
trying to dance feeling
back into my frozen feet.

9.

I woke on the floor, staring up.
My bruises cried out for sleep.
I remembered failures, misunderstandings
gaffes, missed chances, empty triumphs.
Not him, I heard behind me. He's not the one
I want to find in the mirror.