Man of Many Masks

on any given morning i open my eyes to a world eerily similar to the one

behind my eyelids.

but this side has unavoidable consequences.

dang.

with a grunt i wobble to the looking glass.

i blame a wonky equilibrium. the

wobble.

rubbing sleep from my eyes i see the same vaguely familiar

man looking thru at me.

think he’s stuck in there…

anywho, he’s pretty harmless. he thinks it’s funny to mimic

me, but whatever.

minutes after waking i’m already going over the day’s agenda; butterflies

behind my belly button as i wonder which mask

i must don for the day.

bonnie (she claims to be my boss…i allow it most days), wears

the same. exact. mask. every day of

the week.

i own lots of masks - a plethora of

personalities.

she hates them all equally.

same, bonnie. same.

i have one real friend at work. at least mask #6 - ‘medium grin’

gets along really well with her.

#6 is my favorite - it’s worn pretty thin.

it still makes her smile, though.

#6 is my favorite…