Suppose a few beings or selves,
say five, product
of some celestial process
and that this tumult
of exposures encounters prescribed
operations and touchings
we call everyday life
were their acting a pageant,
not so much out of boredom
or loneliness facing truly their fewness
but as play, in the natural sport
of their faculties. You consummate actor!
my peer, so charmingly able
to be completely the selves you
imagine, inhabit, forgetting:
I see you, there behind the day's
random facades, jostling in my Brownian motion
of props dummies true contacts paper men
and long loves: my eyes
have touched the quick core
of your bright star being.