Patrick Lawler, "EYES ON THE POST OFFICE WALLS"

1.

I walk into the post office to mail love letters to the past.  Dear Past.  I had fallen in love with the Green Faced Girl.  “Will you dance with me?” I write in the letter.

2.

Once I was in love with a face painter.  I admit that I am a Puzzled Figure.  I am the Man with Yellow Eyes.  When she used to touch me I saw a rainbow in her hands.  I have to admit it.  It was more scary than beautiful.

3.

How many faces does it take to create a face?

4.

Our Two Faces kissed.  The fact is the first thing you remember are the eyes.  The second thing you remember are the eyes.

5.

She used to call me her Gray Man--always surrendering to an austere grayness. This is where I live--behind the distortions.

6.

A mask is also a face.     Dear Fear Painter.    Dear Wanted.

Dear Witness Disclosure Program.                  Dear Postage.             

7.

She thought of me as the Thoughtful Man in love with the Orange Head.  We listened to Elvis singing about blue.  We were planning our crimes for the future. 

8.

My mask is sickening.

My layers are thickening.

I am only my face.  I am only my mask.

I am the side effects of both.

9.

Language is coming out of me—fear is coming out of me.  Secrets are coming out of me.  I sometimes wonder what we did to deserve this—to deserve all this brokenness.  And then I remember.  I see the eyes staring at me—or someone who looks like me wrapped in layers of  linen and language.  With eyes that have committed the unimaginable staring.

10.

Once I looked at her through layers of our hiddennesses.  Her tiny brushes.  Her kits of color.  Her rainbow broken hands.  “Paint me a face.”  I am sincerely yours.

Unwanted posters plaster the post office walls. The third thing you remember are the eyes.  Dear Mask: “Where is the beautiful face that is you?”