You can see us

living in our windows.

Look inside

and watch us

scurrying about.

Watch us eat,

watch us play,

watch us live.

Everything is on display.


beyond our curtains

and watch the drama

of our lives unfold.

Birth and death,

health and sickness,

love and laughter,

and pain untold.

In our hands,

tiny little windows,

like a pair of angels

on our shoulders.

One good,

one bad,

just watching us get by

and giving us little nudges

in one direction

or another.

We live in performance,

our entire world on display.

A kind of voyeurism.

A kind of menagerie.

Every story is just

comedy, or tragedy

in the eyes

of the audience.

Through our windows

watch us sleeping,

but you cannot see our dreams.

See us move,

never knowing our intentions.

Hear us speak,

but never know our thoughts.

Close the blinds,

put down the camera.

Turn off the phone,

unplug the television.

Performance over.

This has been our final night.

After this

we return

to anonymity.

Our lives

only ours

once more.



DJR – 2023

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