we are the actual, we are not the seem

so
you know how to reveal
as well as you hide.
you're just like me, i suppose.

but we should try now
to get this thing right
while we're both still young.

a dying pharaoh commands
his servants to tear out their eyes
and denies them the privilege
to look upon his demise.

when the caesars and kings of spain
take brides on first night
their praetorian privy councils stand
fast round the bed out facing,
wax stopping their ears.

the manager fires his laborer
only after he has done so
in the mirror a hundred times---
he takes curtain calls
from his dressing room,
he drinks coffee while he masturbates,
he's a weird mofo and hard to calculate.

the bank teller has his own
ranking system from years on years
of eyes on accounts though
his smile and tenor seem to
treat each and every one the same.
here is one anyone can relate to---
a deceiver so obvious and common,
remarkably rare anyone is spared
his discerning eye.

the trashmen know who the real users
of the system are by the weight
of each week's barrel,
yet they hum the same tunes
down every street
as though a day's fare were only a weekly haul,
as if the week were nothing at all,
as if the haul was just a job
where money was involved---
but of course it is more.

i don't wish everyone a good day.
not for malice or insecurity,
not for lack of something to say,
but honestly and consciously for balance---
he gets his, she gets hers,
and that one there gets nothing.
these are just my wishes,
one guy's wishes, but
my wishes are precious, after all,
and few. and heard.

here's one now---
that between me and you
there is no mask, persona, guise, strategy---
but that there is no need for such things,
for there is no shame---
especially between us.

if we are stupid or genuine,
if we are caring or callous,
if we are cavalier or malicious,
then that is what we are.

if we are trapped and confused,
feel the twinge of self-destruction
or the sting and burn of self-idolization,
and we hear it in our minds
and remain silent nonetheless,
so be it.

high or low or equidistant between---
we are the actual, we are not the seem.

i also suppose there can only be
one other who anyone can be like this with.
one half for any other half---only.
just one and one mating within each soul.
truly.

all else is apparition
or preposition
or side order
and segue
and set-up---
all else is the moment of silence
before the real applause.

pharoah and king
made true bedmates
with the godly air.

bosses with prudence.

bankers with balance.

haulers with ethics.

strangers with silence.

but we are not like any of them,
though we may sometimes wear them
and many other masks.
the half instant before we snap it on,
we are the amorphous loving soul,
and in the dizzying afterward,
sometimes we regain ourselves.

i know this, at least in this moment.
and in this moment, i know you know this too.
and i know in your heart of hearts,
when you think of me, you think of you too,
and you use the word we
and you catch yourself doing it
and have no idea why or what to do next,
and so far, in my opinion, you've been quite
exquisite---though by no fault of your own,
we've not talked about it till now.


who knows why or how,
but time can stand still upon a moment
so long that every bit of truth gathers,
and sometimes we move forward with knowledge,
and sometimes we move forward jaded by knowledge
and ultimately forgetful and in spite of ourselves.

and other times,
though we would have it otherwise and well,
time moves so forcefully,
we've no time to think or reflect or behave as we would,
and all our sandcastles get kicked
by our clumsy, time-confused feet---
we redden, humiliated,
and humiliated, we worsen the effect,
feeling not accountable and besieged
and called upon to stand up
for some nameless ideal---
like poverty-stricken shoplifters,
with two hours worth of bread in the pocket---
LEAVE ME ALONE!!!
(screams and echoes)

but now, the ball is rolling.
you know i've always used truth as my ploy.
right now you're eying this ball,
thinking its a trap of some kind,
inexorably eating up all the free space
you would otherwise use to hide in.

that, it is doing, yes. and well.

for both our sake now
take off that mask.
it makes you look stupid before us,
and i wince because of it.

i, for one, think we're better
than you're making us out to be.
and you must respect the i,
for i wouldn't be here,
engaged in all this,
if it weren't for you.

and you wouldn't be reading this far
if you didn't have a clue
as to what we are.
and what are we?
two halves of one soul, ageless,
trapped for a moment in time-bound bodies,
against all odds having found each other,
acting out scripts written by confounded minds,
minds confounded by temporary concerns,
concerns that include every parameter
necessary to keep our one soul torn,
engaged in a drama inherited from days
fabricated by looming boredom,
boredom which is default for half-hearts,
half-souls still searching,
who comprise the magnificent majority,
who thrive in upheaval,
who try to churn every wave and particle,
who are yet satisfied by life,
we are not like them!
we are done in the search.
we did it.
we, against the odds, found each other.

let's just whisper now
its not for us
to show them how we do it.