False faces
False faces,
they called them
when I was a child --
the masks we wore
for trick-or-treat.
I picture still
the piggy face,
my silky hair
appropriately,
in pigtails.
That was it;
that was my disguise.
If that was me,
that anthropomorphic thing,
I don't recall the choice --
choosing for myself
to be a happy little pig.
Perhaps I did,
but that's the thing
about memory --
it makes false faces
of the past.
I don't recall a voice
back then,
but that is not to say
I wouldn't, if asked today,
disguise myself
exactly that same way.
Karen
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
