There’s a crowd in the eyes
Of someone following me
Furies of fancy
Dart glance to glance.
Shadows whisper
over Painted irises.
Muddy broadcasts
Of terror theatre.
Vague villains
Never interlude too long.
Costume changes brought
By carnival gawks.
The lights dim
And seats shiver.
The ending is always the same
A face in a face in a face.
Crowns of sun-stare
Hang and pursue
Around every pair
Of fleeted eye sparks.
The same waxy memory
Papered over a stranger.
A face unable to speak
Only flee and shine.