At Cameron House...

LYNN- Contemporary Orchid
There isn't much I know of her
Except that she is literary
And can twist and wind words
Into the most breathtaking
And heart wrenching
Imagery
And she sat
In the establishment I find myself in how
Perhaps she is here now
Or was last night
Or will be tomorrow
I imagine
She was (is?) less lonely than I
Had a group here
Of people like her
(Like me)
Writers
Visionaries
Seers
Of the most beautiful
Romantic
Morbid
Pathological
Parts of the human being
She wrote 'Liar'
And I'd like to tell her my story
Ask her what she sees
For this time
My own wise eyes
Are blinded by love
And optimism
And the possibility that I'm striving
To be someone I'm not
But here I am
In Cameron House
Listening to country music
That feels strangely appropriate
Forget being Lynn
Or Sheva
Let's see what I write
Let's see who I am


Photograph
August 2003
The day I left for Windsor
Everyone always told me I'm so
Pretty
Except all I see in myself
Is him
And how could I ever be pretty

Looking like him?
His hair
His guaging slit eyes
His snake lips curled into
A seductively lyingsmile
Am I manipulative?
Am I a liar?
I try to avoid it
But I suppose
We all have our moments.