When I point a spotlight at you/us,
I see clearly how clogged the pores have gotten,
how our skin is filled with blemishes from these clogged pores,
how these blemishes are a protective layer/wall, though dirtied with anger and past resentments, still does its job.
The house lights go up
and
I know it is time–
for us to exit on the opposite sides of the stage
but knowing, doesn’t always mean doing:
instead I turn to exit, but linger–
I wait for you to scrape those pores clean
show me the now you.
I wait and wait and wait.
The audience is gone, theater silent, stage lights coming down
I turn one last time, unsure what I hope to see
You in the distance–a blur, your back to me
It is time to exit stage left.
