In our house of mirrors, renaissance and karma comes,
and romance wanes by luck of tongue. Then tell me, mirror, who has won?
When the pearls are broken, and the king has cursed the very motive of the hands,
which carve and carve the foundation for which everything stands,
and where do we end up?
When the day dies, and we go downtown
to the apartment where I kissed you, maybe because
there are no dinner party mirrors downtown to skip the word around.
No, we are our own secret
beneath the belly of the world.

But sometimes I want to flaunt us
like the politician's daughter and her poodles.
the mirrors must not have seen
the lipstick smudge beneath blazer vest folds.
No, we will not be mere molds, we will revolt.
And I will fight for you.

Tear and dismantle with teeth and nail to build thrones for us.
Never more attractive is it, to rid ourselves of this bad consciousness.
So help the youth of yesterday
who look upon his mirror made of past, only
to drown
beneath
its affluence.