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There are those you feel intuitively you can believe
soft, appealing, their frank, honest eyes
hide nothing – You can trust me , they say
as they invite you upstairs to their
or congratulate you on your good fortune
in having been selected
for an audition, a special discount, today’s great deal.
Their natures are indelibly painted on them
while others flash past you in streets, get into elevators,
smooth faces, bobbing painted balloons
crowds of them, floating now, as you sort them,
categorize: good from bad, honest from cunning
personalities stitched in pencil lines
of understanding, sympathy,
doubt, greed or fear.
You believe you can tell them apart.
Still, there are some you know who are not
who they seem – plasticine men and women
actors, con people, their daubed-on smiles
masks over duplicity. Yes, there are those
who fool you, but not so many these days,
not so many.
You are more experienced.
You look up. Your mirror smiles back at you
it knows your secret
winks, won’t tell a soul.
© Johnmichael Simon
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