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.
Peek
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
