No thank you. I prefer
the Emperor. You might be
surprised to know. If the choice
is mine, I’ll always
take a fat man in thin
person pants, a thin woman
in a house dress, a wolf in sheep’s clothing,
an alien in sunglasses
that can’t hide his one eye
but good for him for trying.
I don’t care. Pull the wool
over my eyes. The Emperor’s
finery is all right
by me. If you look
the truth in the eye, it only looks less
like the truth. Just like words
lose meaning the more
you say them, except maybe love but love too
is cocksure with hubris
adorns the adored
in robes of gold and gold
rings on each finger.
But that’s okay. A slight
of hand is all
it takes to make my day.
The Emperor can wait
til tomorrow for the reveal, can revel still
in the filmy opacity of his popularity.
I’m just one
in a million, which makes me
both someone and no one.
Don’t take my word on it:
Such is the way
belief takes hold–
I’d rather be naked
than clothed to the soul.
Rough Drafts Only 