unstable

my face
a pale wall
on which I smear
pigments of imagination

it keeps you out
it keeps me in

a shield
with which
I protect myself
from enemies known and unknown

I stare
between its chinks
(pushing the wall before me as I go)
and through those breaches
kiss air
next to faces
of friends
foes
like Pyramus
his Thisbe

I do not see this wall as you do
merely its reflection
which I spackle and sand
with powder and puff
always renewing its surface
to continue
an illusion
of integrity