Signs

There's a sign outside the window

of the room where I get my tea:

New

Coming Soon

Countdown

I am wearing my poker face

when I hear the news:

gossip

innuendo

I smile and nod,

but keep my feelings safe

from prying eyes.

It's all a charade, you know.

They don't just come,

but also go.

And so I don my mask,

paint my lips,

and style my hair.

Blend in.

Camouflage

There is Ginseng in my cup,

red ink on my hands.

Outside: blue screen of death.

This is my day, writ large.

And when the clock strikes

and it's all over

(tea and sly asides)

papers crumpled in bins

(do not shred)

I descend the staircase,

step by step.

Outside, my glasses fog

in summer's heat.

I am blind.

This was written for Sunday Scribblings 2.