Your white life flickers and jumps
Like a character on a 1930's movie screen.
Yet who knows you beyond this illusionary shadow?
None or few.
Your milky mind sighs and floats
Like obscure, bone-bleached driftwood.
Yet who feels your pain and fear?
One or two.
Your body is sand and loam, weeds and leaves,
Fooled by your second-class movie
Into thinking you are somebody.
Yet you will be missed
Like a slim finger pulled from a bucket of water,
Like a wad of spit falling on a dusty, black cinder.